


Something More

by AnnabethTheUnicorn, Ksiezniczka



Series: TUiM-Verse [6]
Category: Gravity Falls, ParaNorman (2012)
Genre: M/M, Parapines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-08-28 04:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 65,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8432743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnabethTheUnicorn/pseuds/AnnabethTheUnicorn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ksiezniczka/pseuds/Ksiezniczka
Summary: In the aftermath of the final battle with Bill and the publication of Dipper's wildly successful book, Norman Babcock begins to wonder what his place is in "The New Normal". After saving the world and proving without a doubt that the paranormal exists, what else can he possibly do? And in seeking out the answer to that, he begins to get other answers - answers to questions he never thought to ask...Takes place about 3 years after "Out of the Dark". Updates Mondays.





	1. Fehu

_ Holland, 1606 _

 

It was raining. It didn’t rain as much in Holland as it had back home, but it was raining today, and Mary found it fitting. For a light had gone out in her life forever. 

 

His name had been Solomon, but she had always called him Sol. He had said it meant ‘sun’ in Latin. He knew  _ Latin _ ! He wouldn’t say where from. He had no family, he claimed - not anymore. She had nodded rapturously. It was common for those who had left heathen families and turned to their one true Godly faith. His last words to her, before dying of an illness caught on the ship over from England, had been that they would meet together in Heaven.

 

And now, standing by his grave as they lowered the coffin in - her people were scornful of funerals with too much ceremony, and it was obscene to bury someone near a church, but a small graveside prayer was acceptable - she spoke to the small crowd of mourners:

 

“Shall they that are faithful receive no crown of eternal life? Then the faithful have no cause to be afraid of death. We were together for a time as copartners in grace here on this earth. I pray God that we may reign together as such copartners in His glory hereafter.”

 

It was a small speech. She had worked all night on it. She hated speaking in front of large crowds. She hated their eyes on her, she hated the way her palms got sweaty even in the cold rain.

 

But most of all, she hated how her faith had been shaken. Not broken entirely, of course. But shaken.

 

How could a just god take away her Sol?

 

“Let us pray,” the minister said, and everyone’s head bowed. 

 

Mary wished, not for the first time, that she were in that coffin instead. Why should she get to live on when he was buried in the ground, his beautiful body food for  _ worms _ ? What good was this world without him in it?

 

After the coffin was buried in the ground, Mary turned to one of the few other girls her age - for their numbers were still small, and many had died on the voyage over from England - a young woman named Remembrance. She was everything Mary was not: tall, pretty, and blonde though she was never vain about it. Vanity was a sin, after all.

 

Mary and Mem - for Remembrance went by “Mem” most of the time - had never been close, but Mary had no one else to turn to in her grief.

 

“Oh, Mem,” she sighed. “I miss him so much.”

 

“Yes, well, the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. We must remember, Mary, that He works in mysterious ways.”

 

“‘Mysterious ways’,” she sniffed. “You sound like our minister, Mem.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

She tried again, desperate for comfort: “‘Tis as if a light in my soul has gone out for good. Can there be true happiness without Sol? We were to be married next spring, you know. I was so happy with him in my life, and now… Now I fear I never shall be again!”

 

Mem’s only response was, “Happiness is a sin.” And then, the blonde woman walked off.

 

Mary was utterly alone.

 

***

 

_ New York City, 2025 _

 

Norman hated public speaking. Norman didn’t hate things, but he hated that. He hated how something like a hundred sets of eyes followed him as he approached the massive podium. 

 

It had been three years since the events in DC, three whole years since the beginning of what had often been dubbed (in the news and in articles and mostly in Dipper’s bestselling book) the New Normal. And mostly, it was great. Norman was living with the love of his life in a wonderful apartment, in their favorite city. 

 

But some parts of it weren’t so great. Like that the world now demanded updates on their day-to-day lives. Like that he couldn’t leave the house without first putting on two beanies to hide his distinctive hair. Like that if he ever tried, he’d be bombarded by people and questions and cameras.

 

(And sometimes Norman still woke up with a gasp, pulling his hands into his eyeline just to make sure no yellow sparks escaped. He woke up with that image still ingrained in his mind. That man walking forward with his arms pointed towards the sky. Norman still woke up with a dead man’s name on his tongue, wishing to god he could go back and…)

 

The worst of it, though, were the damn politicians. When they weren’t accusing him of terrorism, they were using everything from his age to his sexual orientation to try and make some kind of point. Norman supported most of those movements, of course, and he and Dipper were both proud to be examples for young LGBT+ youth, but he didn’t like all the unnecessary attention. (He wondered if that made him a bad person. If he should be proud of being some candidate’s example.)

 

His left hand played with the fingers of his right.

 

And then, of course, there was this.

 

Tensions rose among other countries when a rumor began to spread that the military was doing tests on the lightning power. Of course, it wasn’t true, but it still opened some eyes to the fact that the Americans had something like a weapon of mass destruction living peacefully in New York City. 

 

So, the United Nations organized this meeting of international leaders and representatives, just to get some basic questions answered, once and for all. He couldn't help but think this would be easier without the half-dozen news crews at the back of the auditorium, all set up with cameras pointing right at him. But Norman knew he’d have to do it regardless.

 

He cleared his throat. It sounded far too loud over the microphone and he took a breath to calm himself before reciting his well-practiced speech.

 

“Mr. President, Mr. Secretary General, ladies and gentlemen…” His eyes found Dipper’s in the crowd. He was sitting near the front, smiling encouragingly. If he wasn’t here, Norman knew he wouldn't be able to do this. “I-I’m here today to support the United Nation’s mission of international peace. I never meant for my actions to cause uneasy relations among our friends in other countries, and I’m committed to doing whatever it takes to repair any damage certain rumors have caused. F-firstly…” 

 

Norman glanced to his right, where he knew sat the highly decorated army general who liked to bombard him with emails and phone calls and small talk that soon turned into horrifyingly big talk. 

 

“Despite any…  _ Urging _ , I have never and never intend to participate in any experiments for potentially weaponizing the blue lightning. Not for any freelance scientists, not for any institutions and not,” with a pointed look towards General Jackson, “for the United States military. I have no grudge against the government for what happened to myself and Dipper Pines, but I admit I’m not exactly endeared to the idea of helping further weapons production.

 

“Nor do I have any intention of using said lightning against any living thing, American or not, of my own volition.” He took a breath. Dipper nodded encouragingly. “In response to the accusations from Greek President Papadopoulos,” Norman silently prayed he pronounced that right. “I’m a pacifist. The fight in DC is the only time I have ever, and the only time I ever intend fight like that. Or at all. Bill Cipher was not human, but if it had been possible, I would’ve used anything but violence, done anything else to stop him.” 

 

He was already exhausted. But he pressed on. “And finally, although I very much appreciate all the kind offers and invitations - especially from the ever-stubborn President Kuligowski - I do intend to remain an American citizen.” A few people chuckled at that and it calmed him some. It was Dipper’s idea to end on a joke, Norman never would’ve been brave enough to do it on his own. “No matter how much I love pierogies.”

 

Nobody laughed louder than Dipper. Norman cracked a tiny smile for the first time.

 

“In summary, I’m not affiliated with the US military or any other institution. I do not intend to take on any vigilante justice delusions. And while I certainly appreciate the hospitality of nations who don’t think the US ‘treats me right,’ I don’t think I’ll be moving away anytime soon.” He knew it was a short address, shorter than these representatives were probably used to, but he didn’t much feel like dragging this out. “Th-thank you for your time.”

 

“Sorry!” A voice stopped him from leaving. Norman cringed. He knew that tone. That was the tone of someone who wasn’t sorry at all. He looked up to see a man leaning over his desk to the microphone in front of him. The plaque before him helpfully identified him as the president of Holland. “Mr. Babcock.” He didn’t look mean spirited or even annoyed, just unabashedly curious. “But you’ll surely agree that three years ago, the world changed for good.”

 

Norman wasn’t at all prepped to take questions, and everybody else in the room looked just as surprised. “Y-yes… Um…”

 

“And while the answers you’ve provided clearly indicate what you will not be doing in the future, as the leader of one country adjusting to this new world, one can’t help but wonder…”

 

Norman felt himself freeze up entirely.

 

“Mr. Babcock.”

 

He could see the smug look on General Jackson’s face. He could see the duo of Greek representatives chuckling to themselves. He could see Dipper in the front, whispering frantically for somebody to shut this down, this wasn’t planned, somebody at least tell the press to stop filming!

 

“What, exactly,  _ are _ you going to do?”

 

Norman’s mouth went dry and his throat closed up. “I-I-” He tried to remember the last time Dipper was asked something like that in one of his interviews, but his mind went utterly blank. “Um, I…” He felt hundreds of pairs of eyes on him. The red lights blinking on the video cameras implied thousands more were watching from elsewhere. “Uh…” Dipper was mouthing something at him, but he couldn’t make it out. “Um…” 

  
He felt bare, he felt lost, and for the first time in a while, he felt utterly alone.


	2. Uruz

Norman groaned for what must’ve been the millionth time that afternoon. “I should’ve prepared for something like that! I should’ve at least been able to make something up!”

 

Dipper just ran his gentle fingers through all that hair. It wasn’t hard with how Norman was curled into his lap, speaking with frustration that Dipper had come to recognize as how Norman concealed shame. “You weren’t prepared to take questions; you were caught off guard! It isn’t your fault Holland is full of jerks.”

 

“It isn’t that!” 

 

As hard as it was to see Norman so upset, Dipper couldn’t help but be grateful that his boyfriend was able to get this stuff out. It took years of slow, gentle coercion to get Norman to stop holding everything inside. “Then what is it? You can tell me…”

 

Norman huffed and flopped back, looking up at Dipper from where he was laying with his head in the older man’s lap. Those brilliant blue eyes looked up at Dipper. They still hypnotized him, even after all this time. “It wasn’t just that I couldn’t answer verbally… He asked me that, and it was the first time I…” He sat up to face Dipper. “We changed the world. For better or for worse, it’s changed. And you’re out telling the story, helping people understand through interviews and gatherings and your book. You’re  _ helping _ . And what am I doing? Sitting at home, trying to dodge the press?”

 

“What are you talking about?” Dipper reached forward and rubbed Norman’s arms comfortingly. “Norman, you’ve done more than enough for the world. Anyone who expects more from you is just being demanding and stupid.”

 

“But I want to help!” Dipper took a breath. Of course he did, he was  _ Norman _ . If nothing else, they were getting to the heart of the issue. “I never stopped wanting to help people.”

 

“I know you didn’t…” His voice sounded weak in his own ears. Between the two of them, Norman was always better at this kind of comforting. But that definitely wouldn’t stop him from trying. “Come here.” His strong hands guided him to lay on the couch on his stomach. Channeling the massage training he got in college, Dipper ran his hands down his back, searching for any knots. “You’re allowed to take time to figure out your next step, Norm. You’re allowed to just exist for awhile.”

 

A tiny smile spread on Dipper’s face as Norman started to relax under his touch. “I-I know… I just… I changed their world completely. Doesn't that make it my responsibility to help with the transition?” He moaned as Dipper dug his fingers firmly into a tense muscle just above his left shoulder blade. 

 

“No.” Dipper didn’t stop what he was doing, really trying to get him to relax. “That’s what you have me for. You fought the last battle, let me fight this one.”

 

It really did become a battle sometimes. Thousands of people who all wanted something out of them. Who wanted  _ more _ out of them. He couldn’t help but want to scream  _ haven’t we been through enough?!  _ Hadn’t _Norman_ been through enough? When was the world finally just going to let the man rest?

 

Dipper would do a million interviews to make that happen. That didn’t make it any easier to be apart from him so long. Sure, Norman came with him on the longer trips, but even just filmings in the city could be day-long endeavors, sometimes more difficult than the cases they took on in their free time. But he knew how difficult it was for Norman, being the center of attention, so Dipper did it alone. 

 

But the UN was something he couldn’t do. Everybody wanted to hear all of that from Norman’s lips. Everybody wanted something from him. Dipper couldn’t stand it. 

 

“I just… Feel like I should be doing something more. Maybe if I did…”

 

Dipper waited a few seconds - just long enough for him to untangle another knot, this one a bit lower down - before asking. “If you did…?”

 

“Then…” Norman’s voice was soft and sweet as always, but it held a self-deprecating sort of exhaustion, the kind that made Dipper want to scoop him up and shield him from the world. He resisted the urge. “Maybe I’d stop waking you up in the middle of the night.”

 

He watched his own hands stutter over Norman’s shoulders. “...What do you mean?”

 

“I mean,” Norman pushed himself up a little to look back at Dipper, “If my mind were occupied, maybe I wouldn’t  _ dream _ quite so much.”

 

He eased Norman back down to the bed and really dug into another spot, pulling a whimper out of him. “They’ll go away, Norman.” No they wouldn’t. They would get fewer and farther-between, maybe disappear for a few full years, but they wouldn’t go away. Nightmares rarely did. But that isn’t what Norman needed to hear. “Don’t worry so much.”

 

The snort surprised him, but his hands continued to work as Norman mumbled. “Did you, Dipper Pines, seriously just tell me not to worry?”

 

Dipper chuckled. “Yes. I did. That’s how you know you shouldn’t worry.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Norman’s neck, feeling him relax even more under his lips. “It’ll be alright, I promise.” He sat back a bit and rubbed up and down along his back, having gotten out all those tough knots. “Hey.”

 

“Yeah, Dip?”

 

Dipper spoke so gently. “Let me do all the setup for the case today, alright? I’ll go early and you can catch a quick nap - I know you didn’t sleep well. You can meet me a little later.”

 

“No, no, come on…” But he recognised that tired voice. “We should go together.”

 

“Shhh.” Dipper continued rubbing his fingers gently along his back, up and down his spine. Norman let out one of those tiny noises that Dipper’s so completely in love with. “I don’t mind. Really. Let me do this for you, okay?”

 

Norman was clearly too out of it to argue, and Dipper took that as a victory. “Mm… Maybe a short, little…” He trailed off. 

 

Dipper smiled triumphantly. He stayed there, gently petting his spine, until he was sure Norman was completely out. Then he tucked a light blanket over him and started getting ready.

 

***

 

“And  _ when _ did this happen, exactly?”

 

“A little more than three years ago, sir. January of 2022.”

 

The head of the law firm - an older man with a grey beard - pinched the bridge of his nose as one of the assembled company closed the laptop. A little more than three years ago, Norman Babcock had saved the universe from certain destruction. Now the entire world knew about his phenomenal powers, among other things. That wasn’t the part that was a problem. No one could argue that the universe not ending was bad. But when their law firm had spent decades looking for the last of the Prenderghast line, only to find this boy, they had realised just  _ where _ his powers had come from.

 

And  _ that _ was very bad for business.

 

“How,” the man asked, “did Mr. Babcock come to have that kind of power? How did  _ any _ of those Prenderghasts come by it? Hm?”

 

No one answered him. The whole table had fallen silent. He pounded a fist on the table, causing some of his coworkers to jump.

 

“This man is walking around with the power to summon the dead and conjure up lightning! That isn’t  _ natural _ !”

 

Another member of the company, a pretty blonde woman, rolled her eyes and looked towards the other end of the table, where an auburn-haired man with stubble on his chin sat somewhat apart from all the other members of the law firm. 

 

“ _ Some _ of us,” she quipped coldly, “are well acquainted with the unnatural.”

 

The auburn-haired man grinned at her unapologetically and replied, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

 

The older man narrowed his eye at him.

 

“She’s right,” he glared. “This is  _ your _ specialty.”

 

The unapologetic grin dropped away. “What are you implying?”

 

“Implying? Nothing,” the boss answered. “I’m outright telling you to take care of it.”

 

“But sir-!”

 

“I  _ said _ take care of it!”

 

***

 

The supposedly haunted apartment was blessedly not too far from their own. That was good, because it was hard to lug all their equipment over there by himself. Sure, they had the van, but even the trip from his parking spot to the apartment seemed like a hike. 

 

Dipper let himself in - the family had already made it clear they would not be returning to the apartment until they were sure whatever lurked there was long gone. He set up some cameras to document any activity that took place. They never used to do that, but now that they could afford them, thermal imaging cameras had come in handy a couple times. They weren’t trying to prove anything. They didn’t have to. It was more their own personal research, tracking movement patterns and behavioral habits. Dipper adored the way Norman’s face lit up when they found new, nonviolent ways of dealing with the paranormal. 

 

While he was connecting them to his laptop, the bookcase across the room from him slammed itself into the floor, sending books everywhere. He looked up.

 

“I know you’re eager to show off,” he quipped, “but do you mind waiting until Norman gets here?” 

 

Five or six photo frames flew off the wall and shattered against the floor, serving as his answer.

 

“Guess not…” 

 

And that’s when Dipper felt that all-too-familiar sensation of something creeping into his consciousness through the back door, trying to shove him back and take control. 

 

“Shit. No, no.” 

 

He went for his phone.

 

He didn’t make it.


	3. Thurisaz

Norman could never sleep more than an hour without Dipper holding him. It was a curse and a blessing. A curse when book dealings took Dip across the country when, for whatever reason, Norman had to stay home. A blessing when Norman had somewhere to be. 

 

A little over an hour after Dipper left, Norman arrived at the apartment. He could immediately tell something was off.

 

“Dip?”

 

No response.

 

“This better not be one of your poorly-timed jokes, Dipper.”

 

He made his way into the next room. Books were scattered on the floor, and there were framed family photos lying in piles of broken glass. Shit. This whole situation just screamed poltergeist. He rescued a couple of the photos and brushed the glass off. The frames were wrecked, but the pictures themselves seemed to be okay. He set them aside so they couldn't be damaged further. 

 

Then a familiar hand wrapped around his thin shoulder and whipped him around before shoving him back with an ungodly force. 

 

Dipper.

 

Well, no. Not Dipper. Whatever decided to possess his body. 

 

Norman was less than pleased. He picked himself up, positive he was sporting quite a bruise on his middle. “Okay. That wasn’t very nice.” He dodged a punch. 

 

Dipper’s body moved spastically, the entity still not used to it’s new stolen form. Its mannerisms were almost petulant.

 

“I’m sure you have a lot to be angry about-”

 

The poltergeist slammed Dipper’s foot into his stomach, sending him back until he could brace himself against the wall. “Shut up.” The voice was young, Norman could tell even through the pain. And it wasn’t Dipper’s. “You don't know anything!”

 

He picked himself up and continued to dodge, though he couldn't quite get around the poltergeist, even if he planned to run. “I-”

 

“All you adults are the same! You only ever notice when I do something bad!”

 

Norman barely made it out of the way as the ghost sent a table at his head.

 

“So, fine! I’ll do something really bad! I’ll kill you! Then they'll notice!”

 

“Then who will notice?!” Norman knew if he could just start putting the pieces together, then he could start getting this kid out of Dipper.

 

“Franklin!” Norman had to dodge another blow. “Franklin and my stupid step-bitch!”

 

The medium frowned. Of course, he was no stranger to parental strife. 

 

“They don’t live here anymore. What you’re doing isn’t going to affect them at all; you’re just terrorising an innocent family.” Another blow came. He dodged. He seized not-Dipper’s wrists, not liking how all those punches would probably bruise his knuckles. “ _ And _ my boyfriend. You’re hurting people. How does that make you any better than them?” Those wrists were ripped out of his grasp - Dipper was always stronger - and one of them collided with his face, sending him to the floor. 

 

“I don’t want to be better than them.” The voice wasn’t yelling anymore. “It was their job to be the bigger people. It was  _ his _ job.”

 

Norman’s breath came in pants and he rubbed his bruised face with a hand. “They don’t have to define you…”

 

“Shut it. I don’t wanna hear your pretty words, you pathetic sap. I don’t want to be better, and I don’t want to be saved. I just want you to die!”

 

Norman rose slowly. “Okay.” He looked at the entity with blazing eyes. “Then I guess we’re doing this the hard way.”

 

Dipper may’ve been stronger physically, but Norman was very familiar with all his weaknesses. He dove forward and poked Dipper’s stomach. The thing in his body squeaked, surprised. Norman knew it didn’t hurt him, but it never failed to surprise him. This gave Norman the advantage for just the split-second he needed to get Dipper’s hands behind his back. It was difficult, but he managed to get Dipper’s body tied to a chair. The voice protested. “Hey! Stop, I will kill you! I’ll destroy you!” Things started to fly around the room again. Norman didn’t care.

 

“It’s time to end this. You’re not going to hurt anybody anymore.”

 

The person in Dipper screamed in outrage.

 

Norman began to speak. Dipper was better at Latin than him, but Norman could do this when he had to. “Exorcizamus Te…”

 

***

 

An observer watched as the taller boy expelled the ghost from Dipper’s body. He’d used a Catholic exorcism. 

 

“Interesting, interesting…”

 

Neither of them were Catholic, so why had they chosen that text? 

 

He watched as the medium untied his newly-exorcised boyfriend and murmured something to him while he sat in the chair, recovering a bit from the possession. Then Norman turned around and began to speak to thin air. The ghost must’ve been there, the observer figured. And judging by the soft smile on the younger man’s face, once the ghost had been vanquished from the human’s body, it was ready to listen.

 

Dipper leaned into Norman a little as they left the no-longer-haunted house. 

 

So the case was a success for them. But still it was that one factor - the choice of text - that stuck out to the observer.

 

It did seem awfully strange.

 

He loved strange. 

 

A plan was already brewing.

 

***

 

_ Holland, 1606 _

 

It was a simple tombstone, nearly identical to all the others around it, and yet Mary could have picked it out of the crowd with her eyes closed. With no one else to turn to in her grief, she often found herself returning to this spot, kneeling in the dirt and running her fingers over the name on the grave.  _ ‘Solomon’ .  _

 

It was on one of these dreary afternoons spent in the cemetery when she started speaking, her finger tracing a ring around one of the ‘o’s:

 

“Oh, my Sol… My life is so empty without you…”

 

It wasn’t the first time Mary had complained like this to the graveyard. And her reaction was just like every other time she’d done this before. She shook her head, hating herself for her own foolishness.

 

“What are you doing, you stupid girl?” She chided herself bitterly. “He can’t hear you. He’s  _ gone _ .”

 

“Interesting, interesting...”

 

The voice of another made her yelp and jump just slightly.  _ That _ had never happened before. Not recognising the sly, almost syrupy voice, she rose and turned around, brushing some dirt from her aproned skirt.

 

The man was a complete stranger to her, in rich colours and silk fabric and a lace collar that was tickled by a short little beard, his auburn hair messy under his hat. He was  _ not _ one of her people. She frowned at the excessiveness and frivolity of his outfit.

 

“Are you Dutch?” 

 

The stranger seemed amused by that and replied, “I’m not  _ not _ Dutch.”

 

What on earth did  _ that _ mean?

 

“This is an English cemetery,” she pressed on, though she didn’t ask the questions she truly wanted the answers to.  _ ‘ Why are you here? Who are you?’ _ Her mouth wouldn’t form the words no matter how much she willed it to do so.

 

“And I’m speaking English right now. Am I not?”

 

“I was just…”

 

“Trying to talk to a dead man?” His eyes glinted a dangerous gold beneath the shade of his hat. “I can help, you know.”

 

Mary hesitated, a chill going down her spine. “I’m not supposed to accept help from outsiders.”

 

“What, is talking to me a sin, too? What  _ isn’t _ a sin with you Puritans?”

 

“Don’t call us that,” she bristled.

 

“You want to be able to see Solomon again, don’t you?” The man continued as if nothing were out of the ordinary. “What if I told you there was a way to do so? What if I told you the spirits of the dead live on long after their bodies decay? Even your own Bible says that much, doesn’t it?”

 

“I…” Mary was still hesitant, still suspicious of this Dutchman.

 

“What if I told you I could help you?”

 

It felt almost as if her blood was freezing in her veins. She wasn’t an idiot - she had heard stories, preached in the pulpit or whispered in the streets, of the Prince of Evil coming to holy people at their lowest point and offering them miracles at the price of their soul. She had heard of once-pure young women signing their soul away with blood in his black book.

 

“I know who you are,” she took a step back, tried to distance herself from his false promises. “St-stay away from me! I want nothing to do with you!”

 

If he was disappointed, it didn’t show. He merely shrugged. 

 

“If you change your mind, Mary, you know where to find me.”

 

Mary didn’t wait around to hear what else he had to say. She turned on her heels and ran, murmuring the Lord’s prayer under her breath the whole way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are just beginning to get interesting.


	4. Ansuz

Dipper could go from asleep to a worried mess in five seconds flat. He knew this always kind of baffled Norman.

 

After the exorcism, Norman got him home and into bed and Dipper was out pretty quick. (And judging by the rings under his eyes, Norman didn’t sleep very well. He was probably too worried about  _ Dipper _ .) But the second he woke up and saw the bruises on Norman’s face, he insisted on taking care of them. He led Norman to the couch.

 

“Rest here for a minute, okay?” Those brown eyes were filled with concern. “I’m gonna grab the first aid kit.”

 

“It really doesn’t hurt, Dip.”

 

Dipper just pressed a little kiss to Norman’s forehead. “Still. I want to, just in case.” He was quick in fetching it from the bathroom. He didn't like that this was how today would start for them, it was supposed to be special. He could only get the morning off of his famous author duties, and he’d planned to make it a morning to remember. The possession put a wrench in his plans. “Is your face the only place that’s bruised?”

 

He knew the answer before Norman even spoke. He knew so well how to read those expressive blue eyes. And Dipper didn’t like the answer. “M-mostly.”

 

“Mostly?” Dipper ran a hand through his hair. “Where else does it hurt?”

 

“The ghost got me in the stomach. B-but I’m sure it’s fine…”

 

Dipper’s chest hurt. He hated knowing it was his hands that hurt Norman. Even if it wasn’t close to the worst he’s had. “Can I see?”

 

Norman complied easily, lifting the hem of his shirt to reveal a mess of black and blue. He clearly hadn’t even thought to check himself for bruises before this morning. Dipper was grateful - not for the first time - that he was there to take care of Norman. As far as he’d come, Dipper’s boyfriend still sometimes forgot to take care of himself when he felt like he needed to take care of someone else.

 

Dipper silently lifted the shirt off of Norman.

 

Norman winced when he saw the bruise. “Aw jeez… Sorry, Dip, I didn’t think-”

 

“Don't be sorry.” Dipper pulled out the soothing balm. “ _ You _ didn't do this.” A sigh. “I can’t take it away, but I’m gonna help make it better, okay?”

 

“You didn't do this either, Dipper. Really, it wasn’t your fault.”

 

Dipper just took one of Norman’s hands and held it tenderly. “Doesn't stop me from wanting to take care of you.”

 

Norman smiled softly. “Oh… Alright.” He teased a little, “only because I love you so much.”

 

“Not as much as I love you.” The older boy pressed a lingering kiss to that hand, looking deeply into those blue eyes. “And because I love you, I hate seeing you in pain, no matter whose fault it is.”

 

“It doesn't hurt…” Dipper knew when Norman was lying. “Much.” That was more like it.

 

Dipper frowned. “Are you  _ sure _ it's alright for me to go this afternoon? Just say the word, Norm, and I'll cancel in a heartbeat…”

 

“I know you will…” Norman kisses his cheek. “But I don't want you to put your life on hold just because today is today. Norman time can wait, National television time is tightly scheduled. Besides, you know how hard t is to cancel on CNN.”

 

“I know, but-”

 

“No buts, Dipper.” Norman smiled reassuringly. “Seriously, it's okay.”

 

They sat in silence for a bit as Dipper rubbed the balm into that dark bruise.

 

It was Norman’s voice that broke the silence. That soft, sweet voice that Dipper would forever remain in love with. “Sorry I didn’t tie you up sooner…”

 

Dipper just rubbed in gentle, circular motions. “It's not your fault. That thing snuck up on you. I’m sorry for letting it in.”

 

“You couldn't exactly control it.” Norman’s thin hands cupped his face with the utmost affection, and Dipper softened immediately. “Don't blame yourself, Dip. Okay? As a present to me.”

 

He couldn't help the smile - trust Norman to find some way to take care of him even now, even today. Dipper leaned forward to kiss him gently. Norman leaned up to meet him.

 

But before their lips could meet, the phone rang, loud and mocking. Norman dipped his head with a laugh as Dipper moaned. Norman reached for the phone. “I got it.”

 

Dipper whimpered and begged. “Let it go to voicemail. Let them think we’re on the subway!”

 

But he already knew Norman wouldn't do that. “It might be important.” And it probably was. Once they became famous, they had to start using a fielding process for cases, utilizing some of the best paranormal investigators around the world. Only when there was indeed a paranormal problem, and that problem required action that no one but them could handle, would the case make it to that phone. That meant about 2 or 3 cases a week out of the thousands that came in every day. Still a hell of a lot more cases than they were used to, but they were happy. And any case that made it to this phone? Was a case they needed to take. “Babcock and Pines paranormal investigation, how can I help you?”

 

Dipper smiled fondly. The call’s importance didn't mean  _ he _ had to be all professional, too. He leaned in to try and kiss Norman’s neck. He heard the voice over the phone ask “Which one are you? Babcock or Pines?” As Norman tried to wriggle away.

 

“Babcock. What is your emergency?”

 

Dipper whined and aimed for Norman’s neck. If the voice on the phone heard him, he ignored it. “Good.” The voice didn’t sound as panicked as Dipper was used to. “That’s who I was hoping it was. You can speak to the dead, and I have a  _ problem _ . With the dead in my house.”

 

Norman pushed Dipper’s forehead back with a single finger as he jokingly kept trying to kiss him. “What are the details of your situation?”

 

“I’ve done some research, and I think it might be poltergeist activity. You know, bleeding walls, furniture moving itself around, screaming sounds at all hours of the night.” Norman frowned sympathetically. “I can't keep living like this. All the other investigators I’ve called have failed to fix the problem.”

 

Norman covered the receiver and whispered to Dipper, who was still pouting. “Bleeding walls could be demonic.”

 

Dipper’s teasing dropped completely. How many more dangerous cases would they get this week? Wasn't one enough?

 

“How long has this been going on?” Norman began to search for a pad and paper in the drawer of the table by the phone.

 

“Mm… On and off for a couple years now. But lately it’s been getting more and more frequent to the point where it's almost hourly. Can you help me or can't you? I’m a lawyer, so if it's money you're worried about, I can pay.”

 

“We’ll worry about payment later on.” Norman finally sat back with the paper and pen. They'd developed a pay-what-you-can system with the cases they took. What with royalties from Dipper’s book, they no longer really needed revenue from investigations. “What’s your address, sir?”

 

The man on the other end rattled off an address in Oyster Bay, Long Island. “How soon can you come? It's… Urgent.”

 

Dipper found his tone strange but couldn't place just why… And Norman rubbed his forehead. Dipper knew he was thinking about their busy month. Dipper’s book had been nominated for some other minor literary award, and his publicist insisted on filling the month of September with TV and radio interviews. Dipper went alone, but the night before served as a harsh reminder of why one of them shouldn't take on cases without the other. So he was surprised at what Norman said next. “I can be there by early afternoon.”

 

The voice seemed pleased. “Great. I’ll see you then.”

 

Dipper gaped. “Norman…”

 

“I know what you're gonna say!” Norman cut him off. “But I’ll be fine. It’ll be in and out.”

 

“Demons can get complicated. Let me come with you.”

 

“You can't. You have the interview.”

 

“I don't wanna go anyway.”

 

“Dipper…” Norman sighed. “You're still exhausted from last night. I can handle this, you know I can.”

 

Dipper just wasn't sure. 

 

Then Norman pulled out those big blue eyes and said, “You trust me, don't you?” 

 

And Dipper was utterly helpless to stop himself from saying “of course I do.” He took a breath, well aware that if Norman had his heart set, it was impossible for Dipper to stop him. “But if you change your mind, call me. Seriously, Norman. You know I’m always happy to ditch CNN for you.”

 

Norman had a teasing little smirk. “You're always happy to ditch CNN, period.”

 

He couldn't help the chuckle. “Oh no, you're onto me.”

 

He watched Norman get up to start preparing for the case.

 

“You still owe me a kiss!”

 

Ever the little shit, Norman blew one in his direction before leaving the room.

 

***

 

It ended up being a good thing Norman left early, though he’d done it mostly because he didn't want to wake Dipper with all his walking around. God knows the guy deserved a nap, what with all the interviews he’d been doing lately. There was some reason for it, but to be perfectly honest Norman had a tendency to zone out sometimes when Dipper’s publicist was talking. Dipper’s publicist was tall, dark, and handsome, with hair that could probably be taller than Norman’s if she ever let it out of her tight bun. And though her voice was usually soft and kind and sometimes monotonous, Norman cowered in fear of her Dipper-You’re-Late voice. 

 

So they made a habit of leaving early for things. Which was good, because Norman hit traffic. The upside of this was that he got to catch the beginning of a replay of one of Dipper’s interviews on the local radio station.

 

“...and your book offers such an interesting perspective. But, let me ask, what part of the journey would you consider the scariest part for you?”

 

Dipper didn’t hesitate. Norman was always amazed by his ability to just talk like that when he was on screen or on the radio. “Seeing Norman strapped down to the machine that was killing him.”

 

“That’s probably the scariest part of the book! The infamous Chapter 13.”

 

Dipper chuckled. “You think reading it is scary? Try living it. And try publishing it without upsetting the FBI again!”

 

The interviewer laughed, too. “How much trouble did they give you during the publishing process? Or were they too intimidated?”

 

“A little trouble, but not as much as you might think. I tried to make it clear that they were just doing their jobs. That was at Norman’s request.”

 

“I see! So he’s the reason you didn’t skewer them! How different would the book be if it was entirely your opinion?”

 

“Norman’s a lot nicer than I am.”

 

Norman smiled. It wasn’t true, but he knew Dipper was joking. He turned off the Long Island Expressway onto the backroads, following the directions to the house in Oyster Bay. 

 

Then, the interviewer asked a question that made him sink a little lower in his seat. “You tend to do a lot of public events on your own, which seems strange since according to the book the two of you work best as a team. Does Norman just dislike interview questions? Can’t say I blame him, who’d come on a show like this?”

 

Norman snorted despite himself. Dipper replied without pause. “Norman values his privacy. We both do, but he’s more reserved than I am. Big public events just exhaust him; I do it so he doesn’t have to put himself through that.”

 

He turned off the radio. He knew Dipper didn’t like doing these things alone, but Norman was just so  _ bad _ at them. He’d probably end up starting a third world war or something. Norman wasn’t suave like Dipper.

 

He drove in silence until he arrived, a few moments later.

 

Driving up to the remote building, it became immediately obvious something was… Strange. The house was just too perfect. It was too perfect to be a haunted house. It was old and decrepit and the walls leaned slightly like a gust of wind could blow it over. The windows were broken. The wood was dark, like it was wet even when it was dry, and the lawn out front was overgrown, yellow.

 

It was exactly the kind of house you would  _ expect _ to be haunted. Which didn’t sit right with Norman.

 

“Why would a lawyer live here?” He murmured to himself.

 

But Norman wasn’t quick to jump to conclusions. Maybe there was some sort of explanation. So he ventured inside, leaving the equipment in the van. 

 

“Hello?” No answer came. He heard a creak upstairs, like the opening and closing of a door. But no words came. No voice. “Is somebody up there?” Footsteps creaked towards the stairs but nobody appeared. 

 

Usually Norman could feel a presence if there was one. There were exceptions to this, like demons and other powerful beings, but Norman didn’t feel anything as he ascended the stairs. 

 

“Hello?”

 

Nothing. He took a breath, exhausted. He made the decision to walk to the end of the hall, and if nobody responded, he’d leave. So he walked, calling out now and then and hearing nothing in return. 

 

Then he almost tripped on a cat. 

 

Norman could swear the fluffy thing came out of nowhere, but he had to jump back to avoid bumping it with his foot. It meowed at him.

 

“What…” A perfect haunted house with a black cat walking around? Norman didn’t buy it. The cat had vibrant, golden eyes. “H-hey…” He lowered himself to be closer to the cat. “Do you have an owner? Are they around somewhere?”

 

The cat looked right back at Norman with wide, utterly understanding eyes. Norman was so sure it was about to speak up and say something like  _ Why, of course, my good sir, the master of the house is having tea in the parlor. _

 

It meowed at him.

 

Norman sank back in defeat. “Fair enough.”

 

Then it approached him and he smiled, reaching out to pet it. And it held up its claws and slashed at his hand. He yelped and jumped up.

 

“Point taken!” Norman turned to go -

 

And he came face to face with a decorative halloween witch, which fell from the ceiling like a jump scare in one of those - he groaned - ridiculous put-together haunted houses. He pushed past it, only to be met with a dripping wall of green goo, coming from a crack in the ceiling and dripping so thickly that he’d have to go under it to get to the stairs. 

 

“I know it isn’t ectoplasm!” He would recognise that particular smell anywhere. But having this stuff all over the floor was a problem. That poor cat could get confused and slip on it or try to eat it - and god only knew what other hazardous stuff was around.

 

He turned back and pushed past the witch again so he could pick up the squirming feline. 

 

“Come on, cat, we’re leaving.” He pushed past the witch again and dived under the goo.

 

The cat yowled and scratched his face. 

 

“Yeah, yeah…” He announced to whoever was listening. “I’m taking your cat to a shelter! Or something! It isn’t safe for them to be a part of your prank! And anyway, isn’t September a little early for a haunted house attraction?” 

 

He’d already put the pieces together. He’d come out here, sacrificed the only afternoon he and Dipper could’ve had together this week, only to be used by some guy who claimed to be a lawyer and rigged his whole house with jump scares and video cameras so he could have the most viral video of October. He could already see the headlines - savior of the universe unimpressed with fake haunted house. Or, for Fox News - Norman Babcock confirmed cat-napper, no cat is safe.

 

Blood started bubbling up from the floor - which shouldn’t have been possible since he was upstairs - staining his shoes. “Food coloring and corn syrup. Charming.”

 

He finally made it to the stairs and they started jumping up and down - the whole staircase. He rolled his eyes as the cat continued to claw at his neck and descended as smoothly as possible. He went to the front door, but of course the front door had disappeared in classic horror movie fashion. 

 

“Impressive.” He was being sarcastic. “There better be a back door.” 

 

There was. He could see it clearly at the end of a long, suffocating hallway. Perfect. The cat screamed at him; he pushed forward anyway. He ran toward the door, wanting to be done with this. The whole floor shook and there were dramatic screams from all around him. If he wasn’t holding the cat, he’d be holding his ears.

 

A plastic skeleton fell from the trembling walls, making Norman stumble and angering the cat further. Cobwebs appeared out of nowhere and he had to hold the cat tighter in one hand as he pushed through them. He finally got to the door and pushed it open. 

 

The shaking stopped and it creaked as it swung open to reveal a set of stairs that traveled down into darkness.

 

It wasn’t a back door. It was the door to the basement.

 

“...Nope!” Norman slammed the door shut. “How stupid do you think I am?!”

 

He ran back through the cobwebs and the plastic bones and the drips of blood that had begun coming from the upstairs floorboards all the way to the front of the house.

 

He jogged to the living room, where the front door would’ve been, and looked around. The broken window looked just as decrepit as it did from the outside. “Okay, fine.” He held the lashing cat to his shoulder and pushed the window open with one hand. His palm got scraped and so did his neck as the cat struggled against him. “I’m sorry!” He wailed at the cat as he scrambled out the window. “I’m just making sure you don't get hurt!”

 

That’d be a fun addition to the online article - Babcock talks to cats.

 

He finally got outside into the front yard. The cat gave his shoulder another harsh scratch and he finally released the angry thing. “Fine! Fine! Sorry!” He ran the fingers of his unhurt hand through his hair and panted, all those scratches throbbing slightly. He turned back to the house. 

 

“Very funny, whoever you are! You got me!” He groaned. “Are you going to come out now?! I’m done playing games!”

 

Norman jumped about three feet into the air at the sound of a loud, obnoxious laugh. He whirled around. A tall man with a rumpled blue suit, disheveled auburn hair, and bright gold eyes was practically doubled over with laughter. “You put on one hell of a show!”

 

The medium was less than pleased. “Great. Laugh it up. And I suppose you're gonna post some stupid video, too? Sure to get a lot of views.” He huffed and crossed his arms. He wasn't all that mad about the waste of his time, but he knew that by the time he got home, Dipper would be off on another interview and they'd be lucky to have five minutes together for the next four days. “You shouldn’t have put your cat in danger like that. There are so many things that could've hurt them in there.”

 

“Oh, don't be so cross, kid!” Norman raised an eyebrow, unsure about how he felt about being called that. “I didn't videotape anything.” That, at least, was a relief. “Besides, wasn’t it fun?” Those infuriating gold eyes twinkled with mirth and Norman pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

“No. It wasn't fun.” He took a breath. Patience. “I’m sorry, but this is a professional operation and I don't really have time for practical jokes.” He turned to go, but paused, glancing around before turning back to the strange man. “Where’s the cat?”

 

“You have no sense of humor. That’s your problem.” Norman blinked, incredulous that this man he just met was trying to tell him what his problem was. “But the good news is, you passed the test.”

 

“Oh, you're testing me now?” Norman could swear he almost felt sparks wanting to escape his fingers. What right did this guy have to test him? “Look, just tell me where the cat is, and I’ll leave!”

 

Those gold eyes glinted dangerously and he looked directly into Norman’s, as if he were about to reveal all the secrets of the universe, and said, “Meow.”

 

A long pause passed between them and Norman took a deep breath. “Okay.  _ Sir _ . Listen, I’m not going to waste anymore of my time here. So how about this one, is the cat okay?”

 

“I just gave you all you needed to know. But if you really need it spelled out for you, the cat is fine.” Still smirking, he continued. “You're a lot less fun than I'd hoped. Gotta say, I’m a little disappointed.”

 

That stung a lot more than Norman would ever let on. His voice got tight. “Excuse me. If I don't feel much like being fun right now. But I drove two hours out here to help somebody, not to be the victim of your practical joke.”

 

“You think this was a joke?” The strange man raised a single eyebrow. “ _ Interesting _ .”

 

“Joke, test, whatever!” Norman hoped the man was telling the truth about the cameras. He’d hate to face the backlash of getting so frustrated with somebody who was probably some innocent civilian or something. “Why would you be testing me, anyway?”

 

“If I told you that, then you’d have to die.” His tone was as joking as it ever was, but something about the look in his eyes made Norman almost believe this man would consider murder an option. But that couldn’t be right. What lawyer would joke about that kind of thing? Then again...

 

“Are you even a lawyer?”

 

“Ah.” The man’s face lit up. “Now you're asking the right questions.” He reached into the pocket of his suit and whipped out a simple business card with gold writing. He handed it to Norman. It read ‘Huginn and Muninn Law Firm,’ with an address below. It was on Wall Street. “The answers you seek are here.”

 

Norman examined the business card. Norman examined the smirking man. Norman examined the sky, as if asking whatever god that may or may not exist why these things happened to him, of all people. Wasn't the ghost thing enough? Then Norman decided this interaction was over. “I’m gonna leave.” And he started to go.

 

The man just laughed. “I’ll see you soon, kid!”

 

“God, I hope not,” Norman murmured to himself.

 

***

 

Norman came home to an empty apartment. He sighed and let himself fall backwards onto the couch, exhausted. He knew Dipper wouldn’t be home until late.

 

So he settled for the only bit of Dipper he could have in that moment. He turned on the TV and flipped to the right channel.

 

“...an incredible video, though!” The interviewer was saying. “The way the blue lightning lit up the whole sky. Was it even more brilliant in person?”

 

He saw Dipper’s face soften. “ _ He’s _ more brilliant in person.” The sap.

 

“That’s adorable.”

 

“It's true! The lightning flashing through the sky? That’s how my heart feels whenever I’m with him.” He could sense a sort of wistfulness in Dipper’s tone, that same longing that Norman felt, too. He was sure anyone else would miss it or misinterpret it. “That may sound cheesy, but it's true.”

 

The interviewer smiled teasingly. “I gotta ask. Are you two really that in love, or do you play it up just a little for the camera?”

 

“If anything we tone it down for the camera!” That was true. “I’m more in love with him than anybody could ever realize.” 

 

“I love you, too…” Norman murmured to his empty room.

 

“Does he ever get embarrassed, listening to you talk about him in these interviews?”

 

“He absolutely gets embarrassed.” Norman chuckled. He felt his eyes start to droop, calmed by Dipper’s voice, even if it was artificial, coming through the pricey sound system that Pacifica had installed in their new place while Norman was still recovering in that hospital in DC. “And it’s adorable.”

 

The interviewer laughed along with the audience. “So that’s why you do it!”

 

Even Dipper was laughing, that laugh Norman loved so much. “Oh no! You're onto my dark secret!”

 

Norman let his eyes drift shut to the sound of that laugh. He let himself pretend Dipper was here. The interviewer cackled. “Scandalous! You heard it here first, folks!”

 

Dipper said something in that affectionate tone and Norman nodded off.

 

***

 

He got home a little after one in the morning with a box, a little later than he’d hoped because there was a line at the bakery. He heard the TV playing softly in the living room and smiled. As quietly as possible, he snuck into the kitchen and took the small cake out of the box, setting it on a plate and sticking a few candles into the cake. He lit them with all the precision he could manage at this hour and carefully lifted the plate, walking slowly towards the living room.

 

“Hey, Norm-”

 

Norman was curled up, asleep on the couch. It was clear that he’d tried to stay up for him.

 

Dipper sighed. He set the cake on the coffee table and knelt by the bed, running a hand down Norman’s thin arm. “Hey…”

 

The younger man stirred. His eyes fluttered open. “Hey.”

 

He smiled. “I got you something on my way home.”

 

Norman blinked at the cake with candles. “Thank you.”

 

“I-I know technically it’s September  _ Fourteenth _ , now, but…”

 

Norman cut him off with a tender kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Dipper.” He yawned.

 

Dipper ran a hand through all that vertical hair. Norman clearly didn’t have the energy to have any kind of celebration right now. “Why don’t you blow out the candles, and then we can go to bed.”

 

His boyfriend smiled gratefully and sat up a bit to blow them out. They watched the thin tendrils of smoke rise and dissipate from the candles. Dipper put an arm around him and pulled Norman’s head to his shoulder. God, he missed moments like this.

 

“Happy Birthday, Norman…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fake ectoplasm was 'Lord of Misrule' shower gel from LUSH.


	5. Raido

_Holland, 1607_

 

It was late at night, possibly past midnight, but Mary wasn’t tired. She had tried to read out of her personal Bible a bit by candlelight (as much as she hated to admit it, the long lists of who begat who did help put her to sleep on nights such as these) but the candle had burned out long ago. Now, she was lying awake in the darkness, staring at the moon through her bedroom window.

 

That's when she heard it. A _tap tap tap_ on her window.

 

As if in a trance, she rose from her bed. The tapping didn't stop. She opened the window, stuck her head out into the cool night air, and broke into a wide smile when she saw who had been throwing pebbles up.

 

“Sol!” Her voice was enraptured. He was just as beautiful as she remembered him being, with soft features and dimples and lighter brown hair than hers and those rich brown eyes that twinkled when he returned her smile.

 

“Mary, Mary, quite contrary,” he teased affectionately, “are you going to come down? Or are you planning to let down your hair and let me climb up?”

 

It was a reference, that much she could tell, but to what, she didn't know. Still, her joy knew no bounds.

 

“I'll be right down!”

 

She slipped her feet into her shoes, and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, before hurrying down. She did not tie her dark hair under a bonnet as she should have, but who would see her at this hour anyway? Who would know?

 

When she ran out to him, he embraced her. He was warm as sunlight.

 

“Come with me, Mary,” he smiled down at her.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“It's a surprise. You love surprises, don't you?”

 

She hadn't always loved surprises. But she loved his surprises, always. So she nodded, and let him lead her through the trees to a nearby meadow.

 

“During the day,” Sol explained, “this place is filled with flowers. But I like it much better at night.”

 

“Oh? And why is that?” Mary already suspected his answer, but she wanted to hear it from his lips.

 

Predictably, Sol gestured up to the sky as they sat in the grass.

 

“The stars! Of course!”

 

“Of course,” she said, bemused by his exuberance.

 

“And they're particularly beautiful at night, shimmering like jewels!”

 

She blushed a little. “Jewels…”

 

“...are sinful, I know,” he nodded. “When worn by us, 'tis vanity. But in the sky… the Lord made those, and thus it's a virtue for us to admire His glorious handiwork. Don't you think? That sky is the second most beautiful thing He ever made.”

 

“And what, pray tell, is the first?”

 

He turned to her with that dimpled smile she adored so much.

 

“You.”

 

That made her smile. She couldn't help it.

 

“Wrong,” she teased. “ _You_ are.”

 

“Ah, but Mary, you often call me a star.”

 

“You _are_ a star. You are my sun and _all_ my stars.”

 

“So,” he continued cheekily, “my point still stands that _you_ are the Lord’s most beautiful creation that is _not_ a star!”

 

Mary laughed, shoving his shoulder playfully.

 

“Sol, your so-called logic is _ridiculous_!”

 

“Yes. But you love it.”

 

She softened. “I love _you_.”

 

“And I love you, my contrary Miss Mary.”

 

With a soft giggle, she cuddled into his chest, and asked him to tell her about the constellations. He knew so much about them, after all, and she loved listening to him talk about them. Whoever his family was before he found the one true faith had educated him well.

 

As he began to ramble on about Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, she closed her eyes to breathe in his scent, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt to soak up his warmth…

 

...but he was cold.

 

Her eyes shot open, only to be greeted with the cold, unfeeling darkness of her bedroom. Her fist was wrapped around her bedsheet, not the shirt of her beloved. She was alone in bed, and it had all been a dream.

 

The memories came flooding back to her - Solomon growing sicker and sicker, wasting away and dying. He hadn’t really come to her in the night, because he was _dead_.

 

Waking up was like losing him all over again. Her eyes filled with tears, and Mary suddenly _wailed_ , pressing her face into her pillow to muffle her anguish. It wasn’t _fair_! How could the good Lord torture her by taking him away and then taunting her with a dream so sweet that it physically hurt to wake up?

 

As the sobs wracked through her frail form, she knew she would give anything just to speak to Sol once more. Anything at all, even…

 

...even her soul.

 

Mary knew what she had to do. Before she could talk herself out of it, she was slipping her feet into her shoes - for real, this time - and running to the cemetery, wind whipping at her dark hair.

 

“I know you’re here, Dutchman! Sh-show yourself!”

 

“I knew you’d be back,” the Dutchman was suddenly right behind her, as if he’d appeared from nowhere. Which, if he was who she suspected he was, he likely had.

 

A shiver of fear ran down her spine, but she forced herself to repress it and whirled around to face him. His grin was as unsavory as ever.

 

“You’ve changed your mind,” he said.

 

“How did you-?”

 

“You wouldn’t be here in the middle of the night if you hadn’t changed your mind.”

 

Mary gulped, trying to sound resolute as she spoke: “I want to see Sol again. Even if it means signing my soul away in your black book, ‘tis worth it just to see his dimples!”

 

The Dutchman arched an eyebrow quizzically. “Black book? It’s not quite that formal.”

 

“Then what _do_ I do? Please, just tell me so I can see him again!”

 

“Kneel down, and I’ll make it happen. I can’t bring him back to life, of course, but I’ll give you the ability to, among other things, see and speak to his spirit.”

 

She frowned. “That's all I must do, then? There must be some trick, some consequence of sorts.”

 

“Consequence?” He chuckles. “Your children - and their children and their children's children - will have your _eyes_. I suppose that can be considered a consequence.”

 

That sounded innocent enough. She nodded hesitantly.

 

“And all you have to do is kneel down,” the Dutchman continued.

 

“Why must I…”

 

“You ask too many questions. If you don’t kneel, your legs will probably give out and you’ll collapse anyway. Now are you going to kneel or not?”

 

She fell to her knees, looking up into his gold eyes which seemed to glow in the moonlight. He grinned, and she swore his teeth looked almost fang-like and feral.

 

And then, incredibly, his fingers began to produce golden sparks, unbelievably tiny bolts of lightning jumping from one fingertip to the next. Mary gasped. The minister had never warned her about this part. She almost considered jumping up and running back to her bed, where she would be safe, before remembering what she was doing this for.

 

“Sjá dauðum,” he chanted in a powerful, almost booming tone. “Sjá fortíðina. Gera eldingar.”

 

What language was this? Mary didn’t understand it, but she knew it wasn’t Dutch. She didn’t have much time to reflect on what it could possibly be, however, because he placed those electrified hands on either side of her head and exclaimed:

 

“Ég flytja þetta vald til þín!”

 

At first, Mary felt nothing.

 

But then she felt _everything_ , all at once, the lightning crackling in her ears as her skull itself seemed to split open at the seams. Her eyes felt as if a thousand tiny daggers had been thrust into them, and her vision went completely black so that Mary was cast into a darkness that was tearing her apart from the inside. Her mouth fell open as if to scream, but over the sparks and the pain she couldn’t even tell if she _was_ screaming. Perhaps she was silent. Perhaps she was dying. She had no idea; she didn’t even know which way was up or down at this point. She was now in an infinite series of loops of energy, of _electricity_ , disoriented from the immense pain to the point of utter thoughtlessness.

 

Then, the pain slowly began to fade. Her hands, she discovered, were fists around the blades of grass, as if trying to ground herself and keep herself from fainting. She heard the Dutchman’s voice:

 

“It’s done. You can get up now.”

 

Mary tried to stand. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she swooned, falling back to the ground in a dead faint.

 

***

 

_New York City, 2025_

 

Norman told himself he wasn’t going to come. But maybe he always knew his curiosity wouldn’t let him forget it. He showed up in late morning, after fixing Dipper’s collar and helping him prepare for yet another meeting with Random House. Wall Street was bustling with businessmen and tourists alike. Norman tucked a stray bit of hair back into his double-beanie hair solution and hoped no one would recognize him.

 

He was actually a bit surprised to find an actual law firm. He pushed open the door, amazed, and approached the front desk. “Um, hi…”

 

The girl at the desk looked up at him with a warm smile. She was blonde with a larger build, someone who definitely looked like someone’s mom friend. Her nametag said ‘Fulla.’ “Hi! Do you have an appointment, sweetheart?”

 

Norman smiled politely. “N-no, sorry…” He pulled the card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “I’m here to see Mr. Hock? Do I need to make an appointment?”

 

Fulla frowned at the card, inspecting it with a furrowed brow. Then her eyes widened and she looked up at Norman with definite pity in her hazel eyes. “...ah. Have a seat. I’ll call him down.” Then she reached into her desk and pulled out an ornate glass bowl with irresistible little colorful candies inside. “Would you like a candy while you wait?”

 

Dipper would chide him for taking food from a strange woman or organization, but if sugar was going to be the end of Norman, he was okay with that. He took one of the little wrapped candies, sure to place the wrapper in the little trash basket as he popped it in his mouth. “Thank you…”

 

He sat in one of the many empty waiting room chairs. Fulla picked up the phone and started speaking rapidly into it, in a language that didn’t sound like English. “Ég hef mönnum hér fyrir ... _hann_. Getur þú sent hann niður núna?” She hung up the phone and smiled at Norman again. “He’ll be right down, hon.”

 

Norman wasn't even done with his candy before the strange man with the auburn hair appeared in the lobby. Fulla didn't smile at him or offer him a mint. She didn’t seem too pleased with his presence at all. Norman felt like he was missing something.

 

The man smiled slyly. “I knew you’d come, kid.”

 

Norman stood, pushing the candy into his cheek to speak around it. “Yeah, well, I came for answers.”

 

“Answers, huh? _Interesting_.” Mr. Hock’s grin widened. “Follow me. We’ll go up to my office.”

 

Dipper wouldn’t like any of this, Norman reflected. But Dipper wasn’t there. He finished his candy and followed the lawyer to the elevator. “Why isn’t there anybody else here? Shouldn’t there be, you know, people with cases or something?”

 

The doors to the elevator shut behind them. There wasn’t a camera in the elevator. “Are those really the answers you came here for, kid?”

 

“No…” The elevator doors open quickly, revealing a hallway as bland as any other law firm. “But since I’m here, I might as well ask.”

 

Mr. Hock threw open the door to his office.

 

Behind the door was an office that seemed like it would suit a clown better than a lawyer. There were neon-colored beanbag chairs on the floor, a cabinet that seemed to be full of various animal skulls and one that even looked human, the desk had a massive lava lamp in place of a computer, and there was a skeeball machine in the corner. A disco ball sent colorful light all over the room.

 

Norman’s jaw dropped. “Woah…”

 

Mr. Hock dropped down into a beanbag chair and gestured to the one across from him. “Have a seat, kid.”

 

Norman looked around. There was a funhouse mirror on the back of the door that made him look like a perfect circle. “Should I check my seat for whoopie cushions?”

 

“Probably a good idea.” Norman sat carefully, thankful for the lack of fart noise. The man continued. “You have questions, don't you?”

 

He pursed his lips. “What exactly were you testing, back at that ridiculous house?”

 

“Still caught up on that detail, are we? Disappointing. I’d hoped you’d come with more interesting questions than that.” A long-suffering sigh. “But if you must know, I want to know who you are underneath the ghost powers and the lightning and the occasional visions.”

 

The last comment caught him off guard. The other stuff anybody could garner from Dipper’s book, but the visions were something that they’d left out. Nobody knew about those except for the Mystery Quartet and a few people from Norman’s hometown. “How did you know about that?”

 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

 

Norman was less than impressed by the man’s blasé exterior. “Okay…” It still didn’t sit right with him, but he supposed the information wasn’t completely unattainable. Maybe this was some super fan or something. “You said I passed your test. What does that mean?”

 

“Means I won’t kill you.” That same dangerous glint glistened in his golden eyes. “Yet.”

 

He was starting to get frustrated with all the half-answers and if-I-told-you-that-I’d-have-to-kill-yous. “Are you ever just going to give me a straight answer?” The stranger shrugged and Norman groaned in frustration. “Who even are you?!”

 

“Finally you ask!” Norman was a little surprised by the enthusiasm. “I was beginning to think you were being rude, not asking my name after all this time.”

 

Norman frowned. “Your name’s Mr. Hock…”

 

“My boss wants me to lie.” A hearty laugh. “But when have I ever done what he wanted?” The strange man offered Norman a smirk. “The name’s Loki.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “Loki. Like the Marvel character? Were your parents big comic book fans?”

 

“No, not like the-! Not like the Marvel character!” He had the face of a man who had heard that too many times in his life. “Like the _god_ I _am_!”

 

“The-!?” Norman blanched. “The Norse god?”

 

The grin grew on the man’s face. He was clearly enjoying Norman’s shock. “Now you get it!”

 

“Y-you realize how this sounds, right?”

 

“How does it sound? Crazy? You’re the last person I ever expected to call someone crazy, kid.”

 

“I was going to say ‘hard to believe,’ I’m sure you’re not crazy. But…”

 

“But?”

 

“But…” But what, Norman? He didn’t believe in gods, but most people didn’t believe in ghosts, either. Was this really so implausible? Could this man actually be… Or was he letting himself get tricked into playing the fool? “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

 

“What, you want me to prove it to you?” The man put air quotes around ‘prove.’ “Look, kid, I don’t have all day to sit around doing tricks.” That was it then. Norman wouldn’t believ- The man laughed. “Oh wait! Yes, I do!”

 

Out of nowhere, Loki lifted both his hands in front of him, one catching fire and the other sizzling with lightning - a clear gold unlike Norman’s greenish-yellow to blue.

 

“You…” He looked closer for any sign of staging, but as Loki twiddled his fingers around it became clear that those were his real hands. Norman felt dizzy in his beanbag chair. “You can…”

 

“That’s not all, kid!” He put his hands away. “Remember how you were so worried about the cat?”

 

He sat there, shocked. “Y-yes, but-”

 

Loki’s whole form shifted until it was the same black cat from the house sitting before Norman. It spoke in that same sly voice. “Meow.”

 

Norman didn’t jump back from the display. Instead, he leaned forward, fascinated. Either this man was a master trickster and a shapeshifter and had decided to devote considerable time into fooling Norman of all people, or… “You’re telling the truth.”

 

“For now.” And then the man was sitting in the beanbag chair again, resuming his usual form.

 

“But…” Norman didn’t know where it came from, but somehow the words escaped him. “But you don’t look anything like Tom Hiddleston!”

 

A raised eyebrow. “I can take that form, if you wish.” And he did. Sitting before Norman was a perfect replica of Marvel’s Loki, voice and all. “I want to destroy the universe because Daddy didn’t love me enough, even though I have to live in the universe too, woe is me, mewling quim and all that!” The face didn’t change, but his regular voice returned to quip, “Gag me.”

 

Maybe it was the shock, but suddenly Norman was just so overwhelmed by all of this that he broke into uncontrollable laughter. He doubled over, cracking up so hard that tears escaped his eyes. When he collected himself enough to look up, Loki was back to normal, grinning from ear to ear.

 

“So you do have a sense of humor after all.”

 

Norman tried to speak through the lingering laughter. “Tha-that was spot on.”

 

He smiled even wider - Norman didn’t think that was possible. “I _am_ an expert at mimicry, you know.”

 

Then it really hit Norman. “Gods are real.”

 

“What, did you think somebody made us up for no reason?”

 

“Sort of? Though on second thought I don’t know why I’d ever believe that…”

 

“I don’t either.” Loki examined his fingernails. “You can’t possibly be _that_ stupid.”

 

“...Thank you?” Norman just stared for a moment. Gods examined their fingernails. Gods _existed_ . “But… wait, what do you need from _me_?”

 

“I’m still trying to determine that.” Loki stood and went to the cabinet of skulls, scrutinizing it the way one might look at a bookshelf in search of a particular book. “See, your powers shouldn’t exist. Not for a human. And since, by some definition of the word, it is my _fault_ ...” He selected a skull and held it in his hand. “My _beloved coworkers_ want me to do something about it.”

 

His fault? Norman could hardly take all of this in at once. These were answers he’d long made peace with never receiving. He’d been so focused on the future - Christy, the New Normal - that he hadn’t looked to the past once. Not even once.

 

“Are you saying _you_ gave this to me somehow?”

 

“To you? No.” Loki selected another skull and stacked it atop the first. “But to Mary Prenderghast?” A chuckle that gave away more than words ever could.

 

“Prenderghast is my mother’s maiden name…” Norman couldn’t sit still anymore. He stood and approached the man- god- whatever. “But who’s Mary?”

 

“What, you expect me to give away everything?” A third skull joined Loki’s growing pile and Norman couldn’t help but be impressed with his balancing skill. “Where’s the fun in that?”

 

He started putting the pieces together for himself. “You gave her the power? W-was she the first?”

 

Loki began juggling the three skulls. It was impressive, but not what Norman was here for. “You ask a lot of questions, kid.”

 

He snatched one of the skulls out of the air. “You said this place had answers. What good are those if I don’t seek them out?”

 

The god seemed to sulk about his stolen skull for a moment but was seemed amused by Norman’s words and smirked. “Good point.” He placed the skulls haphazardly in the cabinet. “Alright, I’ll bite.” He flopped back into the chair by his desk - it squeaked loudly. “Yes. I gave Mary your little power back in… 1607, was it?” He folded his fingers. “Is that what you so desperately needed to know?”

 

“1607. Mary Prenderghast.” Norman hoped harder than ever that this wasn’t some practical joke. “I… For so long I thought I’d never know why…”

 

“Of course, I had no idea my little gift would one day save the world. But, you know what they say about hindsight being 20/20.”

 

“All this time, it was a mystery! So why now? Why would you contact me now?”

 

Loki groaned. “Because we were looking for a _Prenderghast_ and you were a _Babcock_. We thought the last one was that dead uncle of yours…” He drew his fingers along the lava lamp, making the goo inside shift into different shapes. Norman wondered for a second how he was doing that before he remembered he was talking to a god. “And we had no reason to believe your little lightning trick three years ago had anything to do with us. It was more likely Zeus or Osiris or Quan Yin!”

 

“They’re real, too?” Norman shook himself. “Of course they are, that’s a stupid question…”

 

“But,” Loki continued. “Blood samples from the scrape you took down the Hoover Building revealed to _all_ the pantheons - Greek, Egyptian, all of them - that your power came from us.”

 

He took a breath. “So what happens now?”

 

Loki paused. It was the first time he’d done that. “That _is_ the question, isn’t it?” He locked eyes with Norman. “If it were up to Odin, I might have to kill you rather than let such power go unchecked.” Norman sighed. With his luck, the day something _wasn’t_ trying to kill him would probably be the day he was run over by a bus. “But it isn’t up to Odin.”

 

“It’s up to you. That’s why you were testing me.”

 

“ _Now_ you’re starting to understand. Which is good, because I’m quite tired of answering questions, it’s ruining my mystique.”

 

“J-just one more.” Norman needed to know. “If this kind of power was never meant for a human, why would you give it to Mary Prenderghast?”

 

Loki shrugged. “She asked me to.”

 

“What?!” Norman had a moment of utter disbelief. Who on earth would ask for such a thing? Who on earth would ask for the very thing that Norman stayed up every night of his childhood just wishing would go away. “Why would she-?!”

 

“Dead boyfriend.” That shut Norman up. “Wouldn’t you give anything to see your beloved Dipper again?”

 

“Not like that…”

 

Loki ignored the comment. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts now. He chuckled darkly, a laugh that made Norman uneasy. “She had no idea what she was wishing for.”

 

***

 

_Holland, 1607_

 

When Mary came to, her hearing came back before her sight.

 

“Mary? Mary, can you hear me?” Someone was calling to her frantically. The voice was familiar.

 

“Nn…” she groaned, still somewhat dizzy. “Sol? Is that you? But you’re…”

 

 _Dead_. Sol was a dead man. It couldn’t possibly be his voice she was hearing. Unless she was dreaming again. Or unless…

 

Her eyes flew open, and she shot up into a sitting position. The mysterious Dutchman was nowhere to be seen. “Sol!”

 

“I’m right here, Mary…”

 

And there, by her side, was her Sol. She started to smile, until she realized he looked almost exactly like he had when she had last seen him.

 

His cheeks were not rosy, but sallow and sunken in. His eyes had dark bags beneath them, his hair was disheveled. He looked _sick_ , as if he were still suffering from the illness that had taken him away from her.

 

Then, she saw the people behind him, English and Dutch alike. Some looked sick like Sol did. Some had horrible wounds. One woman even still had a knife sticking out of her chest. And every single one of them, Sol included, were slightly translucent, with an ethereal green glow all around their bodies.

 

Mary’s eyes snapped back to Sol, and she reached for his hand. Hers went right through his to the ground again. That’s when she realized what he was, and what _they_ were.

 

“Ghosts…” she whispered to herself. They were all _ghosts_!

 

“Mary?” Sol knit his brows, concerned. “Can you finally see me, my love?”

 

“Oh, God…” she murmured more to herself than to him. “What have I done?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exposition isn't always the easiest thing to make enjoyable, but hopefully we've succeeded. Now you finally know the identity of the red-haired man! Was it who you were expecting?


	6. Kenaz

 

“Oh my god, Norman.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Oh my  _ god _ !”

 

Norman was clearly breathless from telling the whole story and answering all of Dipper’s questions to the best of his ability, and Dipper was in complete awe. “I should’ve tried to get more answers out of him, but I was so shocked!”

 

“I can’t believe I missed this.” Dipper silently cursed all this publicity. “You’re sure you aren’t messing with me?”

 

“I’m sure, Dipper.” Dipper tied the laces on his nice shoes. “Your collar’s crooked in the back…” Norman sat up from the bed to fix it for him. He was always so good about helping Dipper get ready.

 

“Norman, you know I trust you-”

 

“But?”

 

“But we can’t rule out that this guy might just be a very talented hoax.”

 

“Dipper, he knew about my visions. He knew about the power being passed down the Prenderghast line. He set his hands on fire and lit them up with lightning. He turned into a  _ cat ! _ ”

 

“I know! I know, but we both know how deceiving our eyes can be, even yours.” He cupped Norman’s face, looking into those eyes he loved so much. “If there’s one thing being a writer taught me, it’s fact-checking.”

 

“Hate to say it, Dip, but I doubt google is going to be much help here.”

 

“Maybe not,” Dipper dug into his wallet and pulled out his library card. “But the main wing of the library has a huge genealogy section. If there really was a Mary Penderghast, that’s where you can find evidence of her.”

 

Norman took the card with a look that said he knew what Dipper was saying. “But I was gonna watch the interview backstage today…”

 

“I know, Norm…” Dipper had been looking forward to it, too. He loved knowing Norman was waiting for him backstage, it gave him more energy. And they were going to get lunch after. “But if this is real or if it’s just a dumb joke, you have to find out…” He leaned up to kiss his forehead. “We’ll get lunch tomorrow.”

 

Without missing a beat, Norman chimed in, “You’re having lunch with that literary committee chairman tomorrow.”

 

Dipper’s heart sank. “Right… But, Norman-”

 

“It’s fine, Dipper.” Norman smiled. Dipper saw right through it. He could tell when Norman’s smile failed to reach his eyes. “I’ll go today. We’ll find some time this weekend.”

 

“Y-yeah…” He was already running the weekend through his head, trying to find a free hour. Free half-hour. Anything. He came up empty. 

 

He watched Norman pull on his light jacket, watched him don those two beanies, pulling them on like armor against the harsh world.

 

“Drive with me; we can drop you off on the way to the studio.” Dipper knew he was desperate for any time they could get.

 

“It’s out of the way, you’ll be late.” Norman pulled him into a tight hug. “I’ll take the train. Really, it’s fine.”

 

Dipper watched him go. “Th-this weekend, though!”

 

“Yeah!” It sounded feeble. “This weekend.”

 

***

 

The New York Public Library was huge, with giant columns standing outside like guards. The ornate ceiling and the overwhelming symmetry of the place nearly made Norman dizzy. He made his way to one of the information desks and clearly found the woman he had to talk to about genealogy. 

 

There was no dramatic browsing of the shelves, unfortunately. He was actually pretty grateful for that. He was sure if he had to do all the searching himself he’d go crazy somewhere deep in the catacombs of books. He told the curt lady behind the desk what he was looking for, and after some waiting she came back with a pile of old, thick books.

 

He could barely read the calligraphy, let alone understand the language. 

 

But somehow, after hours of deciphering seeming gibberish, he found the name.

 

“Mary.”

 

He read on.

 

“Mary Prenderghast.”

 

He had to stop and breathe.

 

“Mary Prenderghast. Wife of John Prenderghast. She had one child, also named John…”

 

That was it. The name, in this ancient book. But it wasn’t enough. It could be fairly easy to add a few names. So he delved deeper.

 

Mary’s son, John. That was his key. He tracked him and discovered he later had a son - also named John.

 

“Original.” Norman was less than impressed with the puritans’ naming skills.

 

The third John had married a woman named Mildred, and they had two children. One boy, Samuel Prenderghast. And…

 

A girl. Agatha.

 

He brought a hand to his mouth to stop himself from releasing any noise into the musty library air. This woman, Mary Prenderghast, was Agatha’s great grandmother. Slipping a name into an ancient book? Easy enough. But something this thorough? Norman had to admit, the man’s story made more sense than this being a hoax.

 

He returned the books to the librarian, caught up in his own thoughts, and she asked if there was anything else he’d like. 

 

“No, thank you.” He said. She began to go. “W-wait!” He said, thinking again. She turned back with a dry look. “Do you have any, um… Books about Norse Mythology?” 

 

The librarian seemed to get less and less interested with each passing second. But she brought the books.

 

Norman read endless books of myths. The ones that stuck out were the Death of Baldr and the Lokasenna, mostly because they were so damn confusing.

 

At the end of it, he was utterly exhausted. By the time he returned the books to the desk, the librarians had changed shifts and there was someone else behind the desk. He silently thanked god. (Gods? Damn was this weird.)

 

He knew he was going to return to that law firm. He had to. He had too many questions not to. But it was already getting dark, he’d have to go another day. Tomorrow. He couldn't wait, not out of any excitement, but out of desperation. All his life he’d asked the question “why was I born like this?” And now he might actually find out.

 

Somebody saw him while he was waiting for the train. Or rather, they stared. He didn't know what they were expecting. Did they think he was gonna turn into lightning and put on one of those subway performances with lightning? He sighed and decided to take a cab. 

 

Dipper wasn’t home when he got back.

 

***

 

_ Holland, 1607  _

 

This wasn’t what Mary had expected would happen when she made that deal with the Dutchman or the devil or  _ whatever _ he was. She should have expected some sort of trick, but she had been naïve and desperate. And now, while she could see her Sol again, while she could speak with him, she could not hold him or kiss him or run her hands through his hair.

 

“I’m not sure if this is better or worse than before,” she confessed one morning as they strolled through the cemetery together (Sol’s spirit could not go very far from his grave).

 

“Optimistic as always, I see,” Sol teased.

 

“Very funny,” Mary responded flatly, and his teasing smirk faltered a little.

 

“If you worry about me, my love, I assure you there’s no need for it. Despite my sickly appearance, I’m not in any more pain. Really!”

 

“I know, Sol,” she said weakly, glancing down at her feet and half wishing one of the many graves would open up to swallow her.

 

“Then what’s the matter, Mary?” Concern filled his face, as if he weren’t the one who looked deathly ill.

 

She sighed, trying to find the words to even begin to explain how she felt.

 

“It’s… Hm. Sol, do you remember the last words you said to me before you died? You told me we would meet again in Heaven. But I was so impatient to see you again that… that I may have signed my soul away to the devil. Who knows for sure? Certainly not me!” Mary laughed a bitter, humourless laugh. “And for what? For the exquisite torture of being able to see your face again and not being able to kiss it or even place my hand upon your cheek?”

 

Sol stopped walking.

 

“I… I know this isn’t Heaven, Mary,” he began cautiously. “But it isn’t Hell, either. It may not be ideal, but at least we can talk to one another. That’s  _ far _ better than before, when I was forced to just watch you cry, unable to comfort you!”

 

She paused. She had to admit, he had a point.

 

“I hadn’t thought about it like that…”

 

“Besides,” Sol said, “I don’t think that man was the devil. He didn’t ask you to sign any books or contracts. He didn’t even name his terms for a deal.”

 

That optimism was typical of her Sol. Mary had missed that. He kept her grounded even when his love made her spirit soar. She felt her eyes twinkle in a way they hadn’t in months - true, they were changed now, a deeper and brighter blue than the greyish blue they had been before, her irises faceted in straight lines instead of gently curving; but they could still twinkle, and Sol still found them beautiful.

 

“Who else would he be?” It was her turn to tease. “A man from the stars?”

 

Sol smiled sheepishly. “Th-that’s only one of many theories…”

 

And that smile made her feel - for the first time since his death - almost  _ happy _ .

 

***

 

_ New York City, 2025 _

 

Norman was helping Dipper with his tie when the phone rang. Since his hands were busy, it was Dipper who answered. 

 

Dipper quickly concealed his smile when he heard who was on the phone. He cleared his throat. “It’s some big-wig executive,” Dipper said, holding the receiver to his chest so the person on the other line wouldn’t hear what he was saying. “She wants to talk to you.”

 

“Me?” Norman was confused. “Why?” But Dipper was already pressing the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

 

_ “ Uncle Norman !” _

 

Dipper loved the look on Norman’s face when he realized who it was. He loved how those blue eyes lit up. “Christy!” 

 

“ _ Uncle Norman, my mom’s tryna steal the phone! But I wanna tell you about how I’m in daycare now! ” _

 

“Uh huh!” Norman laughed, listening intently.

 

_ “ I just started and all my friends think it’s so cool that I can see ghosts! _ _”_ There was some inaudible scuffle on the other line. _“_ _ We made up this new game where everybody tries to guess where the dead person is standing and I decide the winner based on who’s closest! ” _

 

“That sounds like loads of fun!”

 

_ “ When you come and visit we can take turns being the referee! _ _”_ More scuffling. 

 

Norman heard the unmistakable sound of Courtney yelling. “ _ Christy Agatha Babcock get down from there right now, or I swear to god-! ” _

 

“Did you climb on top of the fridge again, C?”

 

_ “ Mom’s tryna take you away from me! _ _”_ She cried, as if Courtney was trying to ship her off to Africa, not trying to get the phone back from her daughter.

 

“Lemme talk her out of it, okay? And climb off the fridge before your mother has an aneurysm.”

 

_ “ Okayyyyyy. ” _

 

There were some more inaudible scuffling noises, and then Norman heard his sister’s exhausted voice. _“_ _ Norman. ” _

 

“Yeah, Courtney?”

 

_ “ Will you  _ please _ tell my daughter that tap class is not an appropriate time to run off and climb trees? _ _”_ He heard Christy whining in the background.

 

“I’d be happy to, but I think that would ruin the illusion of me as the ‘fun uncle.’” Dipper was making hand gestures to show he had to leave, so Norman kissed his cheek before he ran out the door. “We can’t disillusion her so early.”

 

_ “ Norman. _ _”_ She sounded like she was at the end of her rope. _“_ _ Please. She listens to you! ” _

 

Norman remembered holding Courtney’s hand in the delivery room. How she’d begged him to “use that freaky lightning stuff” to kill her husband for “doing this to me!” He also remembered how Christy’s blue eyes opened and immediately fixed on the ghost on an old nurse, who was making faced at the new baby. He remembered how she giggled and how Norman tried to convince himself it was a coincidence. 

 

He remembered getting the call from Courtney when the baby was just a few months old, without any kind of explanation she’d told him she needed him to come out to Connecticut. Now. He’d expected his sister to cry when they found out, but she didn’t. 

 

“You didn’t have anybody to guide you, Norman.” She had said. “She’s lucky. She has you.”

 

And she did. Whenever he could, Norman would travel to Connecticut and teach his niece about the dead. Little lessons, as she was still young, but lessons nonetheless. They decided as a family not to keep her powers a secret from friends and relatives, as they’d done when Norman was young, but also to keep it from the press for as long as possible.

 

And they decided not to tell her about DC. Not until she was ready.

 

Not until Norman was ready.

 

“I’ll talk to her.”

 

_ “ Good. _ _”_ She breathed a sigh of relief. Christy said something on the other line. _“_ _ We wanna know when you’re coming to visit again. ” _

 

“I’m not sure, Court. Dipper’s been really busy with press stuff these days.” Judging by the two-year-old groan on the other line, Christy had heard that. “I’ll come as soon as I can, alright? But I gotta get going, I have a…” A what, Norman? “A meeting.”

 

_ “ Alright. Call later, okay? ” _

 

“Okay.”

 

A shrill yell carried over the phone. _“_ _ I love you, Uncle Norman! ” _

 

He just laughed with joy. “I love you, too!”

 

***

 

Norman was there before the firm opened, but nobody came to unlock the door. Somehow the door just unlocked itself at 8am. He opened it up.

 

Fulla looked surprised to see him again. “Hi, hun. What can I-?”

 

“I need to see Mr. Hock again.” He gave her a hopeful, strung-out smile. “P-please.”

 

She nodded. “I’ll call up.”

 

But before she had the chance to, the man in question waltzed out of the elevator, raising an eyebrow when he saw Norman standing before the desk. “Hey, kid.” 

 

The suit he was wearing was just as rumpled as the first one. Norman noticed how those gold eyes glinted even in the harsh fluorescent light of the lobby. How did he miss that before? “Are you leaving?”

 

He winked. It seemed threatening. “Business trip. Wanna tag along?”

 

It didn't sound all that exciting, but Norman needed answers so he nodded, following the man out the door and down the street. “I fact-checked everything you told me.”

 

“ _ Did _ you now?” Norman actually had to work pretty hard to keep up. Loki was taller than him. “And what did you think of it? Isn’t it interesting how Sturluson and Tacitus contradict each other so frequently?”

 

The two ancient authors both wrote wildly different accounts of the Norse myths. Norman was thoroughly confused by them. “Interesting? Sure. And frustrating.” They reached a subway stop. “Where are we going?”

 

“F Train.”

 

Norman sighed. Of course the answer wouldn't be so easy. “F Train?”

 

“Yup!”

 

“And then?”

 

“You're asking stupid questions again.”

 

Norman groaned. He just wanted answers.

 

Forty-five half-answer-filled minutes later, they were still on the F Train. Norman looked out the window with a sigh as the train emerged from the underground and travelled above Brooklyn. He tried again.

 

“Is this the business trip, then? Do you just like to spend entire days on Subway trains?” Honestly, Norman wouldn’t put it past him.

 

“Worse ways to spend a day. But no.” Loki eyed him in that scrutinizing way. “Is that really the answer you want?”

 

Norman tried to match his gaze. Norman failed. “No.” There was one question he needed answered. “Why reveal yourself to me now? None of my family ever knew, and I went my whole life never knowing. So why now? What changed?”

 

“The entire world changed, kid. Because of you.” Of course. Everything that happened to him stemmed from that one event. “And you did it in front of everybody. Now John Prenderghast-”

 

“Which one?” Norman whined.

 

“Your uncle.” Loki smirked. “He was the last person with these powers, and he kept to himself. But  _ you! _ ” He laughed. “You just had to be different, didn’t you?”

 

Norman looked out the window again. He was finally starting to get some answers. “I didn’t see you or any of your god friends stepping up, otherwise I would’ve been more than happy to stay hidden, believe me.” He didn’t know at the time that anybody else could’ve defeated Bill. He didn’t know if things would’ve been different if he had.

 

“I suppose I  _ should _ thank you for saving Midgard.” Loki sounded sincere. Norman looked up, surprised. “I won’t.” Norman gave a laugh, that sounded more like it. “But I will say you’ve done something few mortals ever have.”

 

“Endured your company on the F Train for almost an hour?”

 

Norman half expected to be murdered on the spot, but instead the god burst into laughter, throwing his head back. “Yes!” Norman chuckled along. “But also. You’ve impressed me, Norman.”

 

“I can say with certainty that it wasn’t my intention to impress anybody.” He was smiling. “But I think that was supposed to be a compliment. So thank you.”

 

Loki smirked. “You’re catching on, kid.”

 

Norman chuckled. He’d certainly never met a paranormal entity like this before. But of course it didn’t last. He reminded himself he was here to get answers. “So it’s about people knowing about me?” He shakes his head. Stupid question. “Look, you want something from me, don’t you? Otherwise you would’ve stayed hidden like you have my whole life. So let’s stop beating around the bush, okay? What do you want?”

 

The god looked at him with scrutinizing gold eyes, and spoke plainly for what was easily the first time. “I haven’t decided.”

 

“So you might kill me?”

 

“Maybe. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you yet.”

 

Norman decided not to continue with that line of questioning. “What’s it like being a god?”

 

Loki clearly hadn’t expected that kind of question, but wasn’t phased. “No stranger than being a celebrity, I would assume.” Norman made a face. He didn’t much enjoy being a celebrity. The god laughed. “I was a lot more powerful a couple centuries ago, but I still have a few party tricks up my sleeve.”

 

Norman nodded. “The lightning and fire.”

 

“Don’t you play with them a little, too?”

 

He didn’t. As far as Norman had come in accepting himself and his abilities, he never got to the point where he’d play with sparks to show off or anything. He probably never would, either. “Not quite.”

 

The train came to a stop and the announcer blared “Coney Island - Stillwell Avenue.”

 

Loki, the trickster god, leapt from his seat and bound out the door like an excited 5-year-old. “Come on, kid!”

 

From the platform he could see the top of the huge ferris wheel and some roller coasters, too. He had to jog to keep up with his companion, as Loki was one of the only people Norman had met that was taller than him. “Your business trip is here?”

 

“More trip than business, if I’m honest, which I rarely am.”

 

It was raining when they arrived - not lightly, either. But unsurprisingly it didn’t make the god hesitate in the slightest. Norman pulled his beanies down over his ears and ventured out, soaked pretty instantaneously. 

 

Loki led him down the street, in the direction of that big ferris wheel - the Wonder Wheel, if Norman was remembering right. But the medium’s gaze must have lingered a moment too long on the giant candy store they passed by, because the god took one look at him and dragged him inside. 

 

“Are we-? Won’t you be late for your-?”

 

The god just addressed the blue-haired woman behind the counter. “Do you have shopping carts?”

 

She had the look of a woman who had been asked that question before. From somewhere in the back room, she produced a full sized metal cart. And judging by the look on her face, she worked on commission. “Anything I can help you with, sir?”

 

“That’s alright, I know my way around.” 

 

Norman couldn’t help but wander. Pop rocks, jelly beans, candy bars… this place had everything he’d ever seen defined as candy.

 

“You know, kid.” Norman looked up. Loki was throwing five or six packs of jalapeno-flavored hard candy into the cart. “I think this stuff is more fun to eat than to stare at.” 

 

That was all the permission he needed. Norman smiled as he picked up a box of “zombie guts,” gummies with cherry and lime filling for blood. 

 

Loki seemed to prefer extra spicy or sour candies, though he definitely chose some of them just because they seemed strange. He ended up with at least fifty different types of chocolate- or candy-covered bug.

 

He got very excited about finding a little white cube in one of the containers of candy. “Do you know what this is?”

 

Norman took one and gave it a little squeeze. “A stale marshmallow?”

 

The god laughed. “No. It’s a sockerbit!”

 

“Suck your bit?” Norman smirked with a slight laugh. “No thanks, I don’t feel like sucking any bits.”

 

Loki frowned. “No! A sockerbit! It’s a swedish candy, like the fish.”

 

“I think Dipper would get jealous if I did any bit-sucking, Loki.”

 

Loki frowned. Then his eyes widened. “You’re teasing.”

 

Norman laughed harder.

 

“You’re teasing! How miraculous, you do have a sense of humor after all!”

 

It didn’t take long at all to fill up the cart. 

 

Loki pulled a canvas bag out of nowhere and somehow fit the entire cart of candy inside. Norman figured it was magic, already becoming desensitized to those feats. Then the god began to leave, not paying any mind to the fact they hadn’t payed for the candy. “Let’s roll, kid.”

 

Norman opened his mouth to call him back but then decided not to make a scene. He just pulled the money from his wallet - enough for the candy and a very sizable tip - and gave it to the cashier with a sheepish smile before scampering off behind the god, who was already chewing a chocolate-covered jalapeno. 

 

“What took you so long?”

 

Norman didn’t grace that with an answer.

 

The two continued their walk in the rain, and a couple of blocks later they reached the parks at Coney Island. There was no line at the ticket counter so it was easy to get tickets. Especially easy since Loki seemed to somehow obtain wristbands and special tickets without paying. Norman was sensing a theme. 

 

The first ride they came to was a long, fast, blue rollercoaster. It had clearly been recently re-named “Blue Lightning,” and the logo even had some familiar vertical hair sticking out from the top. Norman pressed his lips together as was glad he wore his hats today.

 

“You could probably sue them.” Loki piped in.

 

“Eh, what for?” Norman shrugged. “It isn’t hurting anybody.”

 

“They’re making money off your name.”

 

“‘Blue Lightning’ is not my name.”

 

Loki shrugged. “Your life, kid.”

 

Norman stared at the ride for a moment, watching the car slide around the tracks.

 

“Come on, we’re riding it.” Loki grabbed his wrist and dragged him onto the line.

 

Norman was baffled. “We… We really just came here to ride rides?”

 

“Well, duh. Took you long enough to figure that one out.”

 

Was this some kind of business tactic? To throw Norman off and keep him from asking too many questions? Well, Norman wouldn’t be thrown off so easily. “You said you used to be more powerful a few centuries ago. So godly power isn't a constant thing?”

 

They moved forward in line. “Nope.”

 

No more came. Norman kept pressing. “So where does it come from then?”

 

Loki sighed. “Belief.”

 

“Are we in some weird Christmas Special or something?”

 

Loki pulled him into the rollercoaster car. “Christmas was a Christian construct to steal a Pagan holiday.”

 

“Okay…” Norman strapped himself into the car. “What do you mean belief?”

 

“The more people believe in you, and the harder they believe, the more powerful you become.” He eyed Norman. “And that isn’t a general ‘you,’ kid. You may not be a god, but judging by the footage from DC, you get your power the same way.”

 

“From belief?” Norman had to admit that kind of made sense. He couldn’t have complete control until he knew Dipper believed in him. He’d thought it was psychological, but maybe it was more than that. The rollercoaster car began to move.

 

Loki nodded casually. “In the 1600s, belief in the gods faded because of Christianity. Because of people like those Puritans you’re descended from.” His voice wasn’t accusing. “Because of it, we all went into a coma for a few hundred years.” 

 

The ride cut off their conversation when it shot them off and the wind roared in their ears.

 

***

 

Loki laughed like a madman as they left the ride, and he could tell from the small smile on the human’s face that he enjoyed it, too.

 

“Blue Lightning kicks ass.”

 

“Ha ha.” 

 

They started toward ‘Steeplechase,’ a ride where riders were literally strapped onto a plastic horse. On the way over the kid started looking for answers again.

 

“But you aren’t in a coma now.”

 

“Nope.”

 

He waited a few impatient seconds. “Why  _ not _ ?”

 

“Woke up in the sixties when people started converting to paganism and believing again.” There was no line for this one. They got right on a couple of horses. “Like that friend of yours.”

 

“Sunny.” Norman nodded. Loki did a fair share of investigation on the kid. The goth girl who was his friend in college was just about the only pagan in his life.

 

“Yeah.”

 

The ride began to move and Norman took in the strange design for the first time. “Is… Is this strange for you?”

 

“No. Why?” The god smirked. “Strange for you?”

 

“No, I just meant…” Loki saw the glint in the human’s eye. “Is it strange to be the one  _ riding _ the horse instead of vice versa?”

 

He stared with a dry look. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Oh no?” The ride reached the peak of the coaster. Norman started to laugh. “Could’ve sworn there was a myth I read where you-!” 

 

The roar of the ride silenced whatever he was about to say, but Loki smirked the whole time. He began to hope he wouldn’t have to kill the kid.

 

After that Loki grabbed the kid’s arm and dragged him over to the ‘Soarin’ Eagle.’ “Come on.” He watched the kid shake off the lingering effects of the coaster and open his mouth to ask more questions, so Loki cut him off with an answer to a question he never asked - he couldn’t become predictable after all. “But you know, that friend of yours, Sunny.” Norman nodded. “I bet if you were to ask her who she worships, she’d name an Egyptian, a Greek, hell, maybe even a Nordic god, too. And that’s why we have to communicate between pantheons.”

 

“Like the UN?”

 

“Sure. Say your friend makes a prayer to Osiris, and also a prayer to yours truly.” They got to the ride and the person locked them into the horizontal contraption - built so the rider would be on their stomach and feel like a bird.

 

“Am I locked in here?” Norman asked. 

 

“Probably.” Loki shrugged. “Anyway, in a situation like that, we’d need to communicate to figure out who will answer the prayer, if anybody does. And how. Because the actions taken or not taken after the prayer will not only reflect Osiris, but me, as well.”

 

The ride started up and they flew around Coney Island for a bit. Loki whooped and yelled for the fun of it. He had the distinct idea that Norman was yelling for a different reason. Loki whooped a bit quieter, so that if the human did go flying out of the ride he could catch him. 

 

***

 

They rode a few more, Norman trailing the god around with more and more enthusiasm the more time they spent in the park.

 

“I don’t feel very tickled!” Norman shouted over the noise as the ‘Tickler’ slammed them this way and that.

 

“Me neither, kid!” Loki caught his arm as Norman almost fell out of the damn cart.

 

“I feel a bit abused?!” The medium clung to the rail.

 

“Same!”

 

After the abuse they took a break for hot dogs. Norman had his with ketchup and Loki put everything on his. No, really. Everything. Norman had no idea where he found all those peppers. Loki was looking at him with a strange stare.

 

“What?”

 

The god swallowed a pepper whole. “You haven’t asked any questions in over an hour.”

 

“Oh.” That was right. He’d almost forgotten what he came here for. “I guess I ran out of questions.”

 

“So then why are you still here?”

 

It wasn’t a tone that said Loki didn’t want him there. It was just blatant curiosity. Why was he there?

 

Why  _ was _ he there?

 

Norman thought back to the long string of days full of lingering at home, trying to avoid the press, watching endless interviews, and missing his boyfriend. Before all this weird god stuff, the fact is Norman’s life had gotten pretty boring. What was waiting for him back at home besides an empty apartment and an overused television? Despite the fact that he didn’t know this god at all, and despite the fact that he was standing, having hot dogs, with a person who may well kill him, this was the most exciting thing Norman had done since…

 

Norman shrugged.

 

“...That’s all I get? A shrug?”

 

There was a mischievous glint in those blue eyes. “Maybe it’s my turn to keep a secret.”

 

After lunch they made their way to a small theater with moving seats where there was a zombie-shooting simulator. The two of them got way more competitive than either would ever admit. Then, to finish off the day, they boarded the Wonder Wheel.

 

The blue car lifted them from the ground. They sat in silence. It was the first time since the subway that they’d had to do that, as since then there’d either been the sounds of a ride or the smells of food to distract them. Norman tried to think of something to talk about.

 

“I could take it away, you know.”

 

It seemed to come out of nowhere and Norman stared. “Huh?”

 

“The powers. The lightning stuff. I could take it away.”

 

It took a while for that to sink in.

 

“You don’t like being famous, right? Well, you could just be a normal, boring human. I could make that happen. It would certainly solve  _ my _ problems.”

 

Had this offer presented itself to Norman when he was a teenager, or even just three years ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to give it up. But he wasn’t the same person he was three years ago. And there was somebody else in the picture now.

 

“If I take it from you, I’d have to take it from  _ her _ , too, you know. It would leave the family completely.”

 

Norman’s head snapped up. “How do you know about that? We haven’t told anybody.”

 

Loki shrugged. “Same way I know about Sunny. I did my research, too, kid.”

 

So the gods knew about Christy Agatha. Norman couldn’t keep her separate from this after all.

 

“I’ll give you time to think about it.”

 

***

 

The kid actually looked disappointed when they got off the subway back in Manhattan. “Why the long face, kid? Didn’t you have fun?”

 

“Y-yeah… I did.” He sounded genuine, too. And like he was thinking. “Hey, um… I was gonna go to the Met on Wednesday, because Dip has a program going on right by there. Some, uh, nomination announcement thing. Anyway, I was gonna go alone, but-”

 

Loki was already laughing. “Is this an invitation?”

 

“Well, you’re welcome to come along…”

 

“You realize I still might kill you, right?”

 

Norman shrugged.

 

Loki stared. “I don’t understand you, kid.”

 

It was Norman’s turn to laugh. “That, we can agree on!”

 

“You don’t understand yourself?”

 

“I don’t understand  _ you _ . But I imagine there are few who do.”

 

“Few are meant to.” He grinned. “That’s how I like it.”

 

A moment passed. “That must get lonely, though.”

 

“What, you’re concerned about me getting lonely?” Actually, Loki wouldn’t put it past this kid. He seemed like the type to genuinely care about strangers. He’d known somebody like that once. But Narvi had shown it in a different way, always making everybody laugh. Loki pushed that memory down. “I’m well-acquainted with loneliness.”

 

Norman just looked at him. Loki was kind of surprised the kid was still there, standing on the sidewalk by the subway station. “Me too.”

 

He was one strange human. That, Loki was sure of. He wasn’t sure of much else. He wasn’t used to thinking about… “Are you lonely now?”

 

“No. I’m talking to you.”

 

Loki decided he didn’t like it. “And trying to get me to open up, hoping that if you find something in common with me, we can be friends and I won’t kill you? Clever. It just might work if you’re careful about it.” He refused to meet the human’s eyes. “Though also pretty stupid. If I were you, I wouldn’t get too close to me. It’s dangerous.”

 

Norman tilted his head. “People have said the same thing about me. But as unbelievable as you might find it, I’m actually just interested in getting to know you.”

 

Loki blanched. There was just no way. “You’re right, I do find it unbelievable. There are no actions without ulterior motive.”

 

The human shrugged. Loki wondered if this was payback for how infuriating he’d been before with his answering.

 

“If your ulterior motive isn’t self-preservation, what is it?”

 

Another, slower shrug. “Maybe… Maybe I just want a friend.”

 

Maybe Norman wasn’t the only one. “Hate to break it to you, kid, but I’m not exactly the friendliest of deities.”

 

“Really?” He laughed. “Cuz’ you just took me on a day trip to an amusement park, so I don’t know if I believe that.”

 

“I could still kill you!” Loki insisted. But he started to realize that it might be turning into a lie.

 

“Probably!” Norman countered. “See you Wednesday!”

 

And with that, the human set off, walking down the block towards the other train. For the first time in a very long time, Loki found himself utterly baffled. 

 

He murmured, mostly to himself. “See you Wednesday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real life, the "Blue Lightning" is called the "Thunderbolt"


	7. Hagalaz

Dipper was pacing nervously when Norman got back from his day trip. 

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey…” Dipper’s form relaxed and his whole face softened when he saw Norman in the doorway, the worry lines on his face fading like they never existed. He went over and took the taller man into his arms. “I missed you. Not used to being home before you are.”

 

Norman held him back. “Sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. You were going to see that guy, right? The…”

 

“The god, yeah… Loki.”

 

Dipper pulled him toward the couch to sit down. “Still not used to that.”

 

Norman sat, swinging his legs over Dipper’s lap. “I don’t think we’ll ever get used to it.”

 

“What did you find out? You guys must have been talking for a while.”

 

“Something like that…” Norman shrugged. “The most important bit was the whole thing about belief. Apparently that’s what give gods their power. That’s what gives… Everything power. Like, those exorcisms we use. We’ve always used the Catholic one.”

 

“What do you mean?” Dipper glanced at the phone. “I thought it was the Latin or something.”

 

“Apparently all it takes is the belief that the words will work. That’s what banishes the spirit, not the words themselves. Loki said it was strange that we used that particular exorcism, since neither of us are Catholic.”

 

He blanched. “I could’ve been using Hebrew this whole time?!”

 

Norman chuckled. “Yeah, actually.”

 

“What else happened?”

 

Norman looked at Dipper, face suddenly serious. He remembered how much Dipper wrote in his book about Norman’s eyes - enough that he had to do a fair amount of editing. He sighed. “They didn’t know until recently that my power came from them. And now that they do know, they’re responsible for it.”

 

“Responsible?” Dipper’s eyes flitted from the phone back to Norman.

 

“Yeah.” He tried to remember how Loki explained it. “It’s like the UN. The Norse Pantheon is like a country trying to live in peace with the Greeks and the Egyptians and everyone. Only, I’m like this, I don’t know…” He tried to think of a fitting metaphor. “Scientific advancement. If I do something with these powers, good or bad, the Norse are responsible for it. And Odin doesn’t want it to go unchecked.”

 

“Loki’s brother.”

 

Norman nodded. He almost told Dipper that Odin wanted him dead. He thought better of it. “Loki offered a solution today, actually…”

 

“Oh?” Dipper looked preemptively relieved and Norman winced in anticipation. 

 

“He offered to take the powers away.”

 

Ah… There was the silence Norman had been dreading. It took a full minute for Dipper to say “Oh.”

 

“I just… I need to know, Dip.” Norman looked up with fearful eyes. “And be honest. Will you still love me if I’m not a medium anymore?”

 

The older man released a disbelieving breath and wrapped both arms around his boyfriend. “Oh, Norman…” It felt like a century before the answer came. “Of course I would.”

 

Norman released a huge breath. 

 

“Nothing in the world could keep me from loving you. The real question is, would that make you happy?”

 

The younger sagged into Dipper’s chest. “I wish this’d been offered in high school. God knows I would’ve jumped at the chance to be normal back then.”

 

“And now?”

 

Norman sighed. “I don’t know.” He lifted himself to meet Dipper’s eyes. “I have to talk to Christy about this. Whatever I decide will affect her, too.”

 

Dipper looked unsure. “Norman, she’s two years old.”

 

“Twenty-seven months. I know. But I can’t decide until I have some idea of what she wants.”

 

He offered a soft smile. “Well, don’t let on that it’s some big life decision. She’s too young to understand that.”

 

“I know, Dip.” He met Dipper’s eyes with a slight smile. “I, uh… I’m gonna go this weekend.”

 

He could see Dipper’s heart drop. “Oh…”

 

“I-I know we were gonna do lunch, but you’re so busy anyway, I figured-”

 

“No, no, you’re right.” Dipper cut him off with a reassuring smile. “That’s the best time to go.” He glanced at the phone again.

 

Norman released a relieved laugh. “I thought for sure I’d have to pull out  _ the eyes _ .”

 

“Not necessary.” The older man turned back to him and cupped Norman’s face, gently rubbing his thumb beneath one of those eyes he loved so much. “Though there’s nothing these eyes couldn’t make me do.”

 

Norman leaned into the touch.

 

Dipper leaned in to kiss him.

 

“If I do give the power up, my eyes might change color.”

 

“ _ What _ .”

 

Suddenly Dipper looked absolutely petrified. 

 

“They… look like this because of the power.” Norman explained. “The facets. If I give it up, my eyes might be brown or something.”

 

“No,” Dipper whispered.

 

“Huh?” Norman’s eyebrows knit.

 

“I mean I’ll…” It seemed to be physically painful for Dipper. “S-support… you…”

 

Norman was pretty sure Dipper’s pain was joking. Like, sixty percent sure. He chuckled nervously.

 

After that, Norman did his best to recount to Dipper everything he learned. There was really only thing that upset him almost as much as the eye thing.

 

“You went to Coney Island without me?!”

 

After Dipper’s fourth or fifth glance at the phone, Norman became suspicious.

 

“Are you expecting a call?”

 

“Oh, um…” Dipper stammered. “I’m waiting for Trina to call.” Trina Shankar was Dipper’s mildly-intimidating, tall, dark, and handsome publicist. 

 

“Don’t tell me there are more bookings this month.” Norman was just exhausted.

 

“No, of course not. Actually, it’s good news…” He glanced at the phone again. “Or it might be…”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“The book may have been nominated for an award.”

 

“I know.” Norman smiled. “The National Book Critic’s Circle award for Biography.” He was proud to have memorized the whole title. “You have that thing on Wednesday.”

 

Dipper chuckled. “Yeah. But this is a different nomination.”

 

The phone rang. Norman dived for it and answered. “Babcock and Pines Paranormal investigation, how can I help you?” 

 

Dipper let out an actual squeak and tried to grab the phone back but Norman was wiley when he wanted to be. He heard Trina on the other line. “Norman. Is Dipper there?”

 

“Yup!” Norman dodged the hands that tried to steal the receiver. 

 

“Can I talk to him?”

 

“I just feel like we’ve grown apart, you never wanna talk to me!” He joked.

 

She sighed but he could hear the smile in it. “I have to go work out some kinks in next month’s schedule. So next time you see your boyfriend, go ahead and let him know that ‘ _ Changing the Norm _ ’ has been nominated for the Pulitzer Prize, okay? I’ve already adjusted his appearances to accommodate the awards ceremony.” Norman’s jaw was on the ground. 

 

Dipper froze and whispered. “What did she say?!”

 

“Also.” Trina continued. “Tell him to cool it on the puns. If his goal is to start a new Tumblr meme every time he has an interview, he should hire a different publicist. I’m not here for that shit.”

 

Norman whispered back. “Oh my god, Dipper!”

 

“Also.” Trina wasn’t done. “Will you tell him to pop the question already? Half of America is scandalized that you two are quote-unquote ‘living in sin,’ and the other half of America is tired of hearing about it.”

 

Dipper shook his shoulder a bit. “What?! Norman, what did she say?!”

 

“Also-!”

 

Norman hurriedly replied. “Thanks Trina, will do, gotta go!”

 

He hung up and turned to Dipper with a huge smile. “She said you got it.”

 

“The nomination?!”

 

“ _ Yes _ .”

 

He let out a half-yelp-half-squeal of joy and tackled Norman into a hug, the younger man laughing with mirth. “Oh my god!”

 

“I know!”

 

“Wait!” Dipper froze, looking absolutely serious suddenly.

 

“Wh-what is it?” Norman was confused by the sudden solemn look on his face.

 

Dipper looked into his eyes. “Is it ‘oh my  _ gods _ ’ now?”

 

Norman stared. And then started laughing again, harder than he had in days.

 

***

 

_ Holland, 1607 _

 

Loki had nothing better to do. He couldn’t exactly go home to Asgard, not when he had been banished. As long as he was stuck here in the land of people who had turned their backs on his pantheon, he figured he may as well have some fun. And though he knew he really shouldn’t go back to the Puritan girl, that he should’ve just let his plan run its course, he decided to pipe in and see how Mary was doing with her little  _ gift _ .

 

If nothing else, it might be good for a laugh.

 

What he was  _ not _ expecting, however, was for the girl to see him and march right over to him with such determination in those eyes he had changed. She had a lot more backbone than he’d given her credit for, he’d grant her that.

 

“ _ You _ !” Mary hissed, one of her hands grabbing at the fabric of his sleeve as if to stop him from getting away this time. “Finally, you show your face again, Dutchman - or  _ whatever _ you are! I’d like a word with you!”

 

“And you’ve had that word,” Loki responded as he glared at her hand, “as well as seventeen more.”

 

“You did this to me. You’re going to help me learn to manage it!”

 

The god raised an eyebrow.

 

“Now why, pray tell, would I do that?” 

 

“Because what you told me was that I would see Sol again. You did  _ not _ tell me I would become a magnet for spirits desperate for my help so that they can move to some afterlife!”

 

“Loopholes, my dear,” he grinned unapologetically. Secretly, though, he was intrigued. She had said ‘some afterlife’ instead of ‘Heaven’. That was an  _ interesting _ development.

 

“You also neglected to tell me about the side effect - if I am to produce lightning every time I get upset, I’d like to have some measure of control over it!”

 

“You discovered that one already? I’d hoped that would take longer.”

 

“Furthermore,” Mary’s glare was icy cold, “you have given me no answers. I don’t even know who you really  _ are _ !”

 

“Perhaps, little girl, you’re just not asking the right questions.”

 

“I...” her mouth flopped open for a second. “ _ What _ _?_ ”

 

His eye caught on some motion up ahead on a nearby path.

 

“Better think of a question quick,” his grin grew. “You have company.”

 

“What’re you talking about?” Mary’s gaze followed his - and then, suddenly, she went pale. “Oh no… Mem! Quick, you must hide, she cannot see you!”

 

“Oh no? You didn’t want me to invite her to a puppet show?” 

 

Loki had hoped that last bit would send this Puritan into a conniption fit. These people’s denouncing of all performances as sinful made them  _ such _ an easy target. Unfortunately, Mary wasn’t having it.

 

“ _ Hide _ !” She hissed the command out between her teeth, glancing frantically at the blonde girl on the path.

 

He did not do it because Mary had told him to. Loki hadn’t even followed orders from Odin, so he knew he would never let a  _ Puritan _ order him around! But he  _ was _ curious. How would this play out? It was that curiosity that made him go invisible to everyone around him. Everyone except, that is, mediums like Mary. However, the other girl would not see him. That was what mattered.

 

“There you are,” the other girl -  _ Mem _ , Mary had called her - spoke coldly when she finally got to Mary. Evidently, these two weren’t close. “You missed this morning’s service.”

 

In a voice that only Mary could hear, Loki imitated Mem’s voice flawlessly. “It was quite an affair, really. The minister stripped off his robes to reveal a glittering pink petticoat underneath. I was quite jealous, but I’m far too much of a frigid bitch to admit out loud how much I just  _ long _ to wear glittering pink petticoats!”

 

Mary, to her credit, completely ignored the Norse god other than a split-second glare.

 

“I wasn’t feeling well,” she said weakly.

 

“Ha!” He exclaimed. “That’s the weakest excuse in the book! You should have told her you were sleeping with her husband - now  _ that _ would have been funny.”

 

“Is that so? I had assumed you were in the cemetery. Again,” Mem accused. 

 

Oh? What was this? Loki smirked at the hint of conflict, going silent as he waited to see how it played out.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Mary blushed.

 

“Tisn’t  _ supposed _ to mean anything. I’m just worried about your  _ soul _ .”

 

The medium was apparently just as annoyed by that holier-than-thou attitude as Loki was, because her reply came through gritted teeth:

 

“My  _ soul _ , Mem, is fine. I can assure you of that.”

 

“Oh? Can you? Because you have been acting  _ awfully _ strange lately, and there are rumours, you know.”

 

The blush deepened, and Mary’s voice got weaker as she tried to counter with, “gossip is a sin.”

 

“So is witchcraft.”

 

Loki’s gold eyes widened at that. It was a  _ strong _ word for Mem to be throwing around. 

 

“W-witchcraft?!” Mary gasped. “How  _ dare _ you accuse me of-?”

 

“ _ I’m _ not accusing you Mary. But Goodman Johnson claims to have seen you speaking to thin air the way they say witches speak to their demonic familiars. And now you’re missing church. You must admit, it’s  _ awfully _ suspicious!”

 

“I… I…” 

 

Mem smirked at the other girl’s stammering. And Loki knew if he didn’t step in, stronger words would fly from this smug girl’s mouth. It just wouldn’t do for Mary to be executed for witchcraft so soon - he didn’t have enough power left in him to transform someone else like he had for her. He  _ had _ to stop this other girl. 

 

That’s what he told himself to justify sneaking behind her and using up a little more of his dwindling power to steal the wind from her lungs, knocking her unconscious immediately and catching her as she began to fall to the ground.

 

Mary yelped. “You- you  _ killed _ her! If I’m already suspected of witchcraft, they’ll think I did it and hang me!”

 

“Would you relax, kid? I didn’t kill her. Look, she’s still breathing,” Loki rolled his eyes. “Now take her ankles, will you? Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to get her to her bed. I’m going to put some weird images such as pigs on unicycles into her head. Then, when she comes to, she’ll think this was all a dream.”

 

Obediently, she grabbed Mem’s ankles and began to help him carry her. The two walked in silence for a moment, but it didn’t last.

 

“Why did you do that?” Mary asked. “How’s that for a question?”

 

“Don’t read too much into it. I just can’t stand when people are that smug. You’re going to have to learn to be more subtle and stop missing church.” As much as he disliked the Christians, one of them missing church was causing way more trouble than the whole lot of them were worth.

 

“Did you just tell me not to miss church? So Sol was right - you’re  _ not _ the devil.”

 

“Guess that depends on how you define ‘devil’, doesn’t it? But no, I’m not Satan.”

 

“So will you help me?”

 

Begrudgingly, he nodded. “I guess I will. For  _ now _ . Until it stops being entertaining.”

 

“One more question.”

 

“You’ve asked far too many as it is, kid.”

 

Mary wasn’t deterred, and asked, “if you’re not Satan, what is your name?

 

He paused. Then, he figured he might as well tell her.

 

“My name is Loki.”

 

***

 

_ New York City, 2025 _

 

The woman had lost her young daughter in the museum crowds. Unable to find her, she became so hysterical in the heat of the hallway that it caused a heart attack. Only the woman had never realized she’d died. She still thought it was 1913, still thought her daughter was waiting for her somewhere in the sprawling halls of the Metropolitan Museum of art.

 

“I’m sure she is waiting for you.” Norman had explained. “But she isn’t waiting here.”

 

He watched her slowly take in the scenery, slowly realize more than a century had passed of her wandering. Watched her grieve and cry and finally come to terms with the truth. He talked her through it.

 

Norman smiled wide as her soul was released from the earth, her ghost releasing a blinding tendril of light as she passed on. They had been blessedly alone in the hall, as early morning in the middle of the week was hardly a busy time for art museums. Nevertheless he had his beanies, and was more than happy to be helping somebody who needed something more than an autograph.

 

“You know, kid.” Norman startled and turned around to see Loki leaning on one of the undoubtedly-ancient sculptures in the hallway. Apparently they hadn’t been alone after all. He didn’t have one of the entrance stickers that Norman had on, but the human hadn’t expected him to pay anyway. (He’d gone to the trouble of paying twice the suggested fee, mostly because he had the money to do so.) “Most people come to museums to enjoy the art and culture and shit. Not to perform acts of public service.”

 

The medium shrugged. “It’s my job. I enjoy it.”

 

“Pfft.” 

 

Loki wandered out of the hall and into another section of the museum, clearly done with that topic of conversation. Norman followed. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

 

The god shrugged. “Nothing better to do.”

 

They walked up some steps into a large house that sat in the center of the museum. Norman waved at a portrait of Alexander Hamilton.

 

“What, is there another ghost?” Loki looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

 

“No…” He gave the god a once over. “You can’t see ghosts like I can?”

 

Loki made a face that could’ve been mistaken for a pout. “I can. It just… takes a long and annoying process.”

 

Norman didn’t comment on the fact that he had an ability that not even the god who gave it to him had. But he did smile.

 

“Don’t get cocky, kid.”

 

He followed Loki up what had to be at least four flights of stairs. And apparently gods didn't get tired, so the pace was unforgiving. By the time they got up there, Norman was out of breath. About two steps from the top he moaned out. “Go on without me, I’m not gonna make it.”

 

The god gasped dramatically and grabbed the railing, reaching his other hand out as if to pull Norman out of a fire. “Don't say that! Don't ever say that! I won't leave you, kid! Not like this!”

 

Norman laughed. “Go on without me.”

 

Loki smirked. “Come on. I’m not going to carry you.”

 

Eventually they made it up the stairs.

 

The room was small, with a low ceiling and almost no color save for the red blanket on the bed. Artifacts from the Seventeenth Century sporadically decorated the flat surfaces in the room. Norman was surprised so many full cases and pitchers remained intact. He read the information on a few of them, but didn't understand most of the vocabulary used. He looked at one of the ornate wooden chairs. 

 

“Her room looked almost exactly like this one.”

 

Norman looked up, confused for a moment before he realized why Loki had brought him here - the Puritan room. Suddenly he looked around with a lot more interest. “It did?”

 

“Yeah. Except out her door was a kitchen and a couple k- ...And a kid.”

 

Norman looked up. “John.”

 

“John the second.”

 

“Out of four? Five?”

 

“How should I know, kid? I’m a trickster god, not a mathematician.”

 

Norman chuckled, gently touching one of the bits of furniture. He wasn't sure if he was allowed. “You said ‘a couple.’ Did she have another child?”

 

The pause that followed was so long that Norman was sure Loki had decided not to answer. The medium knelt down to get a better look at the fireplace. Finally he spoke up. “Angelica.”

 

Norman looked up. “A daughter?”

 

“She… Didn't make it.”

 

“Oh…” He knew that child mortality rates hadn't been good. He supposed if the girl didn't live past a certain age, there wouldn't be much of a record of her. He tried hard not to think about Christy. Then a thought struck him that made his face clench. He brought a hand to his forehead. “She… She had to see her child’s spirit, didn't she? Leaving her body.”

 

“She didn't take it well, kid.”

 

He dropped the hand to his knee. And suddenly his chest tightened. “I have a new question.”

 

“Do you, now?”

 

Norman looked up at Loki. The god was reclining in the wooden bed with the red blanket. Norman knew chiding him wouldn't do any good. “I'm sure tons of people made tons of wishes back then. So why Mary? Why  _that _ wish?”

 

Loki released a sigh that seemed to carry more answers to questions Norman never asked, but in a code that Norman didn't understand. He just knew the breath seemed to stretch back in time for hundreds of years. “You aren't gonna like the answer to that question, kid. It's complicated and unpleasant.”

 

“Complicated and unpleasant, huh?” Norman looked up at him from his spot on the floor. “Go ahead, then.”

 

Loki stood from the bed, stepping over the rope with the ‘Do not cross’ sign hanging on it. When he spoke there wasn't any emotion in his voice, it was as if he were stating facts. “We were dying, kid. As the Christians forced more and more people to convert, we were growing weaker. Our power was diminishing and a lot of us - myself included - were  _ angry _ about it.” Norman was surprised how straightforward and honest the god was being. Maybe he was starting to trust Norman. “At least with Catholics, though, some ritual was getting through. Some gods disguised as saints - ever heard of Brigid?” Norman shook his head. “Anyway… Then there were the protestants, who did away with all of that. Made us weaker, faster. And the Puritans? They were the worst of the lot. Pushing for more and more reform, pushing against anything that disagreed with their stifling, narrow belief system. Mary Prenderghast offered me an opportunity to poke a hole in their belief system. I took it.”

 

The medium frowned. Was Mary really just some tool to him? “So… she was- what? An opportunity to get  _ revenge _ ?”

 

“It wasn’t that personal,” Loki shrugged. “But yes. It was payback against the Puritans. I wanted to…  _ widen _ their worldview.”

 

“With a lonely kid?” Norman failed to understand how a single person within a group so set in their ways could make such a huge change on their own.

 

“I told you you wouldn’t like it.” Loki was utterly unapologetic. Norman frowned and stood up to look him in the eye. 

 

“And shortly after that you all went into hibernation?”

 

“It’s more accurate to say we were  _ comatose _ . We were starved into it.”

 

A look of sympathy passed on Norman’s face, but he shook it off. “So maybe there’s something you don’t know, after all.”

 

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybes get us nowhere, kid.”

 

Norman held himself back from delivering the information as if it were a blow. “Mary’s great granddaughter was a girl named Agatha Prenderghast.” Judging by the blank stare, Loki didn’t know this. “She was put to death at eleven years old. They hung her for necromancy.” Norman took a breath, steadying himself. “She was playing with the dead spirits she saw.”

 

Loki would’ve seemed utterly matter-of-fact if not for the split-second pause and his half turn to examine the walls of the room. “It was their narrow ideology that killed her. Not me.”

 

“What was she supposed to do? She had nowhere to run, no safety net, nobody to teach her how and when to use her powers safely.”

 

“The  _ idea _ ,” Loki’s voice was low. “Was that over time. Each generation would chip away at it a little more. These things don’t happen in a day, or even a lifetime. Nobody changes the world overnight, kid.” He turned to meet Norman’s eyes again. “Nobody except you.”

 

That caught him off guard. He examined the god for a moment. “I’m just a product of your magic. So… so how come none of you stepped up to defeat Bill?”

 

“That’s… a very interesting question with a long and boring answer. Pantheon politics abound,” He sighed. “But the short answer is that none of us were strong enough.”

 

“Not even together?”

 

Loki shrugged. Norman didn’t know why, but it irked him.

 

“Politics got in the way,” Norman offered. “And now politics means you might have to kill me for doing what you guys didn’t do.” He thought about Mary, how neither of them were equipped to deal with these powers. How Christy might grow up without a guide too, now, if Odin had his way. “It was all about the endgame for you, wasn’t it? It didn’t matter what happened to all those people who had to live through discrimination and  _ execution _ ? It didn’t matter that you  _ knew _ you wouldn’t be around to protect them?” It made him want to spark, but he kept a handle on it. “And it  _still _ doesn’t matter!”

 

“What do you want me to say, kid?” The emotionless tone was becoming infuriating. “I guess I didn’t know everything.”

 

Norman stood up to him. “You clearly have no idea what it’s like to be human!”

 

“Well,  _ you _ have no idea what it’s like to be a god!” Norman jumped back when Loki snapped like that, a harsh contrast to his previous tone.

 

He stared as Loki stalked out of the room.

 

Norman took a moment to collect himself and his thoughts before following. It took a while to find the god amidst the great sprawling caverns of the museum. 

 

When he did find him, Loki was standing in front of a painting which was hung in the corner of a room. The information plaque informed him that it was titled “Just Moved.” In it, a man sat on a kitchen table while a woman in a pink dress sat beside him in a chair. The man was carving bread and the woman was looking intently at the baby in her lap, whose outstretched arms also caught the attention of the man. He was looking at the child with all the love of a father. Behind him was a young boy eating some bread. He had blonde curls and vibrant blue eyes. In the corner a cat was on a leash of twine, sitting on some baggage. 

 

Loki stared at the painting as if he wished to burn a hole in it with his eyes. Norman didn’t doubt that if Loki really wanted to, he could definitely do that. Maybe he was just trying to burn the barrier between the painting and the world, so he could hop through and cause some chaos in the happy family tableau. Norman suspected that would be harder to do.

 

He wasn’t sure what to say. He really had been enjoying Loki’s company and he wondered if he ruined that. Norman spoke softly, as if intruding on some sacred moment. “Are you okay?”

 

At first he wasn’t sure the god had heard him. Then his whole demeanor changed and Loki put on his usual smirk. “Yup! Come on, kid, let’s get churros.”

 

Norman payed for the churros and all seemed to be well. But still he attempted an apology. “Loki, I didn’t mean to get so upset. It’s not like you could’ve done anything to save Agatha.” And it’s not like he could’ve done anything to help Norman, either. Loki hadn’t even known he existed until recently. Norman sighed and took off his beanies. There was nobody else around in this section of the park, and his head was getting overheated.

 

“Nah, kid.” The god reached out with his free hand and ruffled Norman’s vertical hair. “Getting upset is part of being human.”

 

He smiled despite himself. “And gods don’t get upset?”

 

“Oh, we do!” Loki nodded with wide eyes. “But it can be really entertaining when humans do it.”

 

“With gods, not so much?”

 

Loki took a bite of his churro. “Not so much.” 

 

He released Norman’s hair from his hand and watched it spring back up. 

 

Loki cackled. “ _ That’s _ hilarious!”

 

Norman chuckled as the god spent the next fifteen minutes playing with his gravity-defying hair.

 

***

 

_ Holland, 1607 _

 

They had done it. Somehow they had managed to get Mem back into her own bed without anyone seeing them, and Mary was relieved to be free of witchcraft accusations for the time being. She hated to admit it, but this Loki was right. She would have to be far more careful. Which was not to say she planned to spend less time in the cemetery - she still wanted to be with Sol as often as possible - but she would have to be careful about it.

 

She sighed as they walked away from the wooden house where Mem still laid unconscious.

 

“Loki, huh?” Mary tried the name out on her tongue. 

 

“I suppose you’re going to ask me more questions?” Loki responded dryly.

 

“You’re not human…” She thought about it for a second. “But you’re not a demon, either. Are you?”

 

He seemed to consider that for a second. Then, he chuckled.

 

“Finally learning to think for yourself, are you? Isn’t it the opinion of your people that  _all_ gods other than yours are called demons? Because I’ve read some  _ very _ interesting accusations about, say, Freyja.”

 

Mary gave that some more thought. She, too, had heard priests back in England denounce “the demoness Freyja, leader of the witches’ Sabbath on Walpurgis Night.” Back in England, it had seemed so frightening. It seemed almost silly now. Still, she frowned.

 

“There’s only one true god.”

 

“Oh, sure,” he said, “continue to put your faith in the one who took your Solomon away instead of the one who gave him back. That  _ definitely _ makes sense.”

 

She should have been offended by that. But oddly, she wasn’t. Loki’s apparent bitterness said more about him than it did about her.

 

“Well,” she continued, “whatever you are… thank you.”

 

“Hm?” He arched an eyebrow, evidently not used to being thanked.

 

“I mean it,” Mary said. “You did not have to help me with Mem  _ or _ warn me to be careful. So… thank you.”

 

He went silent for a good minute as the pair walked. Then, finally, he responded, for once without an ounce of rudeness in his tone:

 

“You’re welcome, kid.”

 

***

 

_ New York City, 2025 _

 

Lightning hadn’t scared Norman for a very long time. Usually when thunderstorms hit, he and Dipper would curl up under a blanket and watch some old movie, usually with some warm drink in hand. Usually there were kisses.

 

Usually Dipper was home.

 

Norman turned on some dumb movie anyway, to distract himself, but about half-way through, the screen went black and every light in the apartment turned off. Even out the window, all he could see was darkness, the stars and moon smothered by the thick storm clouds. Not even the street lights were on. A power outage.

 

Then the lightning struck.

 

Norman jumped back from the window, though he had no reason to be surprised. Without the heater going, the room soon became cold. 

 

His breath started to quicken and he felt petrified with fear. Like something bad was lurking just beyond the door. Like something horrible was going to happen. Was he about to have a vision?

 

Another crash of lightning. A vivid memory flashed behind Norman’s eyes. A man with his arms to the sky, a man speaking calmly. Vision tinted with green, Norman remembered the screaming, he remembered- No.

 

“No no no no no, not now!” It wasn’t a vision at all. It was a panic attack.

 

Desperate in his fear, Norman took out his phone and fumbled to turn on the flashlight - thinking the light would help with the sheer terror. But the dead white of the light was just like - so much like - it was exactly like the fluorescent bulbs in the facility. The ones that Norman shattered when he lost control. 

 

The phone slipped from his hand and landed somewhere on the carpet, the light drowned out immediately. Norman was plunged into darkness again. At least until-

 

Another flash. Another crash.

 

He saw the puddle of blood. Norman couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe. He dove to the floor to try and find his phone - praying that Dipper was on a break, praying Pacifica wasn’t busy - but none of that ended up mattering because he couldn’t find the damn phone anyway. What little he could see was blurred by the tears in his eyes.

 

His breath started to come out in panicked cries, and he scrambled into the corner of the living room. He didn’t know where he was anymore, but he knew he was in danger. His mind had long convinced him that he was going to die. 

 

He sunk into a ball and tried to remember how to breathe, how to feel safe again, but he couldn’t. He was a tiny, trembling ball of panic.

 

And he was utterly alone.

 

***

 

Though he never would have admitted it out loud, not even to himself, Loki  _ had _ grown to enjoy spending time with Norman. For a human, the kid had a hell of a sense of humour. And… he was loathe to admit this part, but it was nice to spend time with someone who was able to talk to him without thinly-veiled animosity. Other than his wife, Loki hadn’t experienced that kind of kindness since Thor got sick of the rest of the Aesir and ran off to Arizona to  _ ‘find himself’ _ or whatever.

 

The apartment was dark when Loki showed up. There’d been a blackout like this when the gods had woken up, way back in ‘65, but he shook that memory away. (What was it about Norman that kept making him  _ remember _ things he’d rather leave forgotten?)

 

“Yeesh,” he spoke out loud into the darkness. “You home, kid?”

 

No response. Loki didn’t know what he had been expecting.

 

He snapped his fingers, lighting one of his hands completely aflame, like a torch, using the light from this fire to look around the apartment. He muttered to himself, less than amused:

 

“Maybe he’s not… home…”

 

But on that last word, his gaze landed on a huddled, trembling ball on the floor.

 

Norman.

 

Loki wasn’t an idiot. He recognized right away what was happening, and though he never would have expected or wished it upon this human, he’d dealt with this before. He knew what needed to be done.

 

He walked over to the human, not bothering to hide the concern on his face, kneeling before him. He even used his name.

 

“Norman?”

 

It was no use. Norman was too far gone under all of the panic. He didn’t even react. His fingers were threaded into those spikes of hair, clenched into tight little balls. His shoulders shook with silent sobs, though under his breath he was whimpering the word, “no,” over and over and over.

 

Loki extinguished the fire - he didn’t need it - and reached out with a surprising amount of gentleness to ease Norman’s hands out of his hair. It was a gentleness he hadn’t used in centuries, not since Vali, one few knew he was even capable of.

 

“Aw, kid,” he breathed quietly. “Whatever it is, you’re safe, okay? Can you hear me?”

 

Evidently, though, Norman seemed only vaguely aware that someone was lowering his hands. His lips started to form a question...

 

Another flash of lightning flashed, banishing the question to the realm of the unknown. Norman trembled with more sobs, his breath coming out in short, useless spurts. 

 

It was painful seeing him like this.

 

“I- I- I’m sorry,” Norman sputtered. “I’m sorry, I- I never meant to-!”

 

His voice was far away. It was clear he wasn’t speaking to Loki. He wasn’t even looking at him.

 

Quietly, more than himself than to Norman, the trickster murmured, “never meant to what?” He began to try and lower Norman’s head towards him, and his fingers brushed one of his temples. 

 

And suddenly, a power he’d forgotten he’d even had reactivated itself. Suddenly, he got a flash of images, as vivid as if the memory were his own. A dark room with blinking fluorescent lights. Being strapped to a cold metal table. Dipper Pines, his arm mangled into a bloody mess. Torture at the hands of the being who called himself Bill Cipher. And an FBI agent going down when hit by a flash of green lightning. But even before that… Nightmares. Self-loathing. Even suicidal ideation.

 

He knew  _ those _ feelings all too well, on a deeply personal level. And he didn’t like it one bit that Norman knew them, too.

 

And suddenly, Loki was scooping this human gently into his arms the way he would do for a frightened child, nestling that spiky head into his shoulder and lowering his voice to a much more soothing tone.

 

“It’s in the past,” he breathed. “It can’t hurt you anymore.”

 

Norman didn’t seem to know who was holding him. But despite that, his breathing began to calm. When he finally spoke, it was quiet, almost childlike, as if he was being punished for misbehaving. “I- I never wanted to hurt anybody, I…”

 

“Shh…” Loki kept his voice low, knowing instinctively not to raise it. “You don’t need to justify it to me. I know.” He knew better than most. Norman calmed a little more, and he kept speaking softly, holding him and staring straight ahead into the darkness. “You’re safe now, Norman. The past can’t hurt you anymore. It wasn’t your fault.”

 

“I-it wasn’t?” Norman sniffled. “B-but I-”

 

“Shh. It  _ wasn’t _ your fault. You’re okay. You’re  _ safe _ .”

 

The medium let out more pathetic sniffles. Not even realizing who it was yet, he muttered almost bitterly, “H-how do you know?”

 

“Because I know  _ you _ ,” Loki responded. “You’re safe. What happened back then isn’t happening now, hard as you may find that to believe.”

 

“It…” Norman seemed to be starting to come back to himself.  “I…”

 

“You are  _ safe _ ,” the god repeated. He would repeat it as many times as it was necessary for Norman to believe in that safety. “In New York. Not in New Mexico. I promise you that - I have no reason to lie about it.”

 

“H-how do you know about-?” Norman came back to reality enough to realize who was holding him. “...Loki?”

 

Still, Loki didn’t let him go, his reputation be damned. Norman still needed to be held and no one else was here to do it. “Shh. You’re okay, kid.”

 

“H-how…?”

 

“How do I know you’re safe?” He knew damn well that wasn’t what Norman had been about to ask. “Easy. Because I’m a god and I say you are.”

 

The human’s breath was still uneven, but he managed to weakly say, “Th-thought you hadn’t decided whether to kill me or n-not…”

 

Loki paused.

 

“...that’s not important right now. What’s important is that you breathe. Cry if you need it - I won’t judge you for it - but you must  _ breathe _ .”

 

Norman followed instructions. He breathed, and it came out in a loud sob, evidently louder than he’d expected it to be, louder than he’d allowed himself to be all night.

 

Softly, still holding him to his shoulder, Loki murmured, “There you go. Just let it out. It’ll feel much better once you do.”

 

“He was trying to surrender!” Norman exclaimed through a wail.

 

“And you were scared and trying to defend yourself and Dipper. No one can fault you for that. It’s  _ okay _ .”

 

Sobbing loudly, the medium continued, “I l-lost control!”

 

“That wasn’t your fault, either. They wanted you to. But they can’t hurt you anymore.”

 

Norman’s sobs got harder as he let himself just cry into the god’s shoulder. Loki sighed, waiting for this to run its course, holding Norman securely through every sob.

 

“Cry as much as you need. It’s okay…”

 

Finally, the tears ran dry. The trembling began to fade. Norman stayed curled into Loki’s shoulder, though whether it was from exhaustion or embarrassment was anyone’s guess.

 

“There you go,” Loki breathed. “Doesn’t that feel better? Now I need you to do me a favor and repeat some things as I say them. Think you can do that for me? Or not yet?”

 

Norman nodded, confused but compliant.

 

“Good. Now repeat after me: ‘I am safe.’”

 

“I…” the medium took a breath, “...am safe.”

 

“Now say, ‘I am okay.’”

 

“I-I am okay,” he didn’t lift his head, but he calmed a little more. The words seemed to be helping him, like magic.

 

“One more. ‘I forgive myself for what happened back then.’”

 

Loki knew that would be the hardest one.

 

Norman paused, not repeating the words.

 

“Say it, kid. Say it so you can start to believe it.”

 

“I-I for…” he started trying to wrestle his tongue around the words, as if they were completely foreign to him. “I forgive… myself… F-for what happened b-back then.”

 

Loki still kept his voice low and gentle. “Again, without the hesitation.”

 

“I…” Norman’s voice cracked. “I can’t, I…”

 

“You  _ can _ . You know you can.”

 

“I-if I forgive myself, it could happen again!” The sobs started up again. “I-I don’t wanna kill anybody, I never did-!”

 

“That’s absurd. That won’t happen again. And forgiveness will only help you…” the god sighed. Norman wasn’t ready for this step yet. Pushing it would do no good. “Alright… then repeat something else for me? It might sound strange, but bear with me…”

 

“O-okay…”

 

In a completely serious tone, Loki stated, “Beep boop.”

 

Norman hesitated, clearly even more confused now. But, despite everything, he trusted Loki. “Beep boop…”

 

“Say it again. Beep boop.”

 

“Beep boop,” there was no hesitation this time.

 

“One more time?”

 

“Beep boop,” Norman said obediently.

 

“...hard to focus on your fears when you’re saying something silly, isn’t it?”

 

The medium let out a breathless laugh. “I-I guess so…”

 

Only when he heard that laugh, as strung-out as it was, did Loki pull back to look at Norman’s face, keeping his arms protectively around the boy. “Starting to feel okay again? Your breathing sounds better.”

 

Norman wiped at his face, still wet with tears, half-heartedly. “Y-yeah… I am.”

 

Loki was silent for a few moments before speaking again, measuring out each word carefully:

 

“I know you don’t believe me now, but you  _ will _ forgive yourself in the future. And you’ll feel so much better once you do. You can trust that much.”

 

“I shouldn’t… but I do trust you,” Norman sniffed as he admitted that. “That’s dangerous, isn’t it? Trusting a trickster?”

 

“It’s definitely dangerous. But you should never let a little danger stop you from doing what you believe is right.”

 

The human nodded, taking a few seconds to breathe and pull himself back together. Then, he looked up at Loki.

 

“How… how did you know about all of that? About New Mexico, and…”

 

Loki could have made something up. That would have been simple. But - for once - he decided to be honest.

 

“An old power of mine - they call it _‘_ _ seiðr’ - ‘seeing’. _ I… saw your pain and knew it as if it were my own.”

 

“They never mentioned that in any of the myths…”

 

“They did. Once. But I imagine those writings were destroyed long ago, along with so much else.” For Norman’s sake, Loki hoped he never learned just how much else had been destroyed back then.

 

Norman’s own hands wrapped around the arms Loki still had around him, not wanting to be released quite yet. “C-can I ask you something else?”

 

“Ask whatever you need.”

 

“Why…” The blue eyes that looked up at the god in the darkness were confused, vulnerable. “Why would you do this for me?”

 

Ah. That was the question of the hour, wasn’t it?

 

“...believe it or not,” Loki responded, “I’m not a monster. I wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on anyone.” Though he would never admit it out loud, he  _ knew _ that kind of pain all too well.

 

“I never thought you were a monster,” Norman said. “I know monsters, and you’re not one of them. I just…” He dipped his head. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

 

“I’m not. I’d rather have been here for it than let you suffer through it alone. Nobody should have to go through it alone.” A pause. “Does it happen often?”

 

“N-not anymore. This is the first time in months, actually… U-usually, Dipper is here. But he’s been so busy lately…”

 

That, Loki understood too. Dipper’s absences were weighing more heavily on Norman than the medium may have even realized.

 

“Well,” he continued to speak carefully, calculating every single syllable, “if it happens again, and he’s not here, just remember, ‘beep boop.’ Alright?”

 

Norman allowed himself the tiniest hint of a smile as he nodded. “Beep boop.”

 

“There you go,” Loki returned the little smile with a small smirk of his own. “Do you feel better, now? Would it help if I provided some light until the power is back on?”

 

“You can? How?”

 

“I’m a god, remember?” He pulled one of his hands away, his other arm holding Norman more securely to compensate, and lit that one hand on fire - a warm, orange flame meant to comfort and soothe. “Does that help?”

 

Norman’s watery eyes reflected the light as he gazed at the flame. “Yes. Thank you, Loki…”

 

“Don’t mention it,” the god smirked. “Really, don’t mention it - I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

 

That had been a joke, of course. He was trying to lighten the mood with his regular facetiousness to make Norman feel better.

 

It seemed to work. Norman even chuckled a little. “I won’t if you don’t.”

  
“I won’t breathe a word to anyone, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact - one of Loki's attributes is as a guardian of the mentally ill. It's true!


	8. Naudiz

Dipper had to leave again early the next morning. Norman just smiled supportively and brushed off his apologies, but they both knew being apart was becoming harder and harder on both of them. 

 

About an hour later, he was sitting on the couch half-watching the channel that was set to play Dipper’s interview in a little while, sipping some coffee and trying to make sense of what had happened the night before. As usual in times of great confusion, Norman turned to google. He waded through quite a few pages of Marvel Movie fan analyses before he found a page that seemed to answer a few questions. 

 

It was a page from a Pagan organization titled “Loki and Mental Health.” 

 

Norman read it. He reread it. The author talked about their experience in an institution, how a man with red hair appeared to them. They made a deal with this man to get control of their life again in exchange for helping others like them. What was it with Loki and deals? Whether or not the story was real or a hallucination, the author went on to devote their life to helping the mentally ill. And it shed some light on why the god did what he did last night. 

 

“I know what it’s like,” Loki had told the author. “I’ve been there.”

 

The banishment, the poison, the  _ loss _ . After meeting the man, there was no doubt in Norman’s mind that gods could suffer the same kind of scars humans could. Did that make him some kind of guardian for people with mental illness?

 

The door was thrown open while Norman was deep in thought, and he jumped, closing the laptop.

 

The god waltzed into the apartment as if he owned the place. “Up and at ‘em, kid! The fun,” He gave a deep, sarcastic bow. “Has arrived.”

 

Norman managed a dry look. “Did I give you a key at some point? How do you keep getting in?”

 

“Magic. Obviously. Haven't yet met a lock that can keep me out.” Loki looked Norman up and down, but there was something different about it, something softer in those gold eyes. It was almost affection, or maybe concern. He took a set on the couch. “We watching something? Or did you wanna get out of the house?”

 

Thinking back to all their previous interactions, Norman couldn’t remember a single time Loki had asked what he wanted to do. At least, not so obviously. Norman flicked the TV off. “The interview isn’t on for a few hours.” He offered a little smile, certain that Loki already had a location in mind. “So where are we going?”

 

The grin that spread on Loki’s face was equal parts amusing and terrifying. “If I told you that-”

 

“I’d have to die?”

 

“It’d ruin the surprise! You like surprises, don’t you?” It seemed like the god was genuinely asking.

 

Norman decided to tease. “That depends.”

 

Those gold eyes glinted. “What if I told you I wanted to take you to one of my favorite places in the city?”

 

Norman stood from the couch. “I’d say lead the way, you maniac.”

 

The god hopped up eagerly. “There’s your sense of adventure! And here I was beginning to worry you’d misplaced it.”

 

Loki was not one that Norman had taken for a worrier. “Who me?” A laugh. “Never.” He followed Loki out the door and down the stairs. “Is this a car sort of adventure or a subway sort of adventure?”

 

He thought he caught the god’s smile soften for just a second, but it could’ve been a trick of the light. “Subway, naturally. You would  _ not _ want to attempt driving where we’re going.”

 

***

 

“No.” Norman looked absolutely terrified as Loki stood up. “No. No, no, please.”

 

“Kid-”

 

“I refuse! I will not!”

 

“You haven’t even seen where I’m taking you yet!”

 

Norman just groaned. “This is the single worst Subway station on the planet! Please, I’m begging, don’t make me get off here!”

 

Loki just laughed as the train pulled into the 42nd Street-Times Square station. “Come on, kid, let’s go have some fun.”

 

The human grumbled the whole time as Loki dragged him off the train, pulling his hats down farther over his forehead in the hope he wouldn’t be recognized. Secretly, Loki was glad Norman was feeling okay enough to grumble. He would never admit that he’d brought the kid here so neither of them would have to sit at home alone.

 

“Quit whining. You might just have fun if you let yourself.”

 

Norman’s fear of the 42nd Street station was apparently warranted. Despite his height, some asshole human with zero spacial awareness bumped his shoulder, nearly sending the medium to the ground. Norman didn’t say anything, but the god took his arm, lot letting Norman lose track of him and  _ not _ letting anyone else bump into them. He glared at anybody who got too close. 

 

Finally they made it to the ticket counter. For once he didn’t use any tricks to get tickets off of the person behind the desk. “Two tickets.”

 

Norman was looking up at the sign above them. “...Ripley’s Believe It Or Not?”

 

Loki smirked. “Are you surprised?”

 

“I’ve never been here before.” The human tried to pull out his wallet to pay for their tickets, already anticipating Loki’s tricks. 

 

“Oh, put that away! I’ve got this, kid.” He pulled out a wad of illegal-looking cash.

 

Those blue eyes widened. “Where did all of that come from?”

 

“From my pocket. Duh. Are you going to question my finances or are you gonna come in and watch videos of people hammering nails into their own skulls and the like?”

 

“You already know my answer to that.” Norman swiped one of the tickets and led them both inside the so-called museum. 

 

It was in the third or fourth room that Loki said it. “In my opinion, the best part of humanity is represented right here.”

 

“What part is that?”

 

He used a tone that could be interpreted as joking or serious. “You’re all so weird.”

 

The human spoke reverently. “I know. It’s amazing.”

 

Surprised, Loki turned to him with a smile. “I mean, look at these people. This guy in England tattooed his whole body to look like a zebra just because he could. These people in Italy have so much hair they look like werewolves. This Chinese man was born with blue teeth and married a Taiwanese contortionist with a balloon fetish. This tribe in South Africa finds stretched out earlobes to be unbelievably sexy.”

 

Norman pulled on his own earlobes. “Do you think this’ll drive Dipper wild with lust?”

 

“Never know until you try, kid.”

 

He laughed. Loki smiled.

 

“You’re such a  _ weird  _ race. And every one of you is weird in a different way. Where I come from, everyone is the same.”

 

“Really?” Norman couldn’t imagine a world like that. “What’s that like?”

 

“What, Asgard?” A sigh. “It’s fine if you like hearing stories of war and drinking mead all day long.” Loki had always been a bit of an outsider among the Norse gods.

 

“...You already know I read some of the old myths.” Norman nibbled his lip nervously. “Are you still… banished?”

 

The god was perplexed at the amount of concern in the human’s voice. “I… no. After we started to wake up in the sixties, it was decided we’d better stick together.” He was used to answering that question to old friends and the humans he decided to fuck with. He wasn’t used to being honest enough to say, “But they haven’t forgotten what I did. And I’m still not forgiven.”

 

Norman breathed that in. He looked over another exhibit. “I love how these people are so unashamed of who they are.”

 

All too glad to change the subject, Loki smiled, glad Norman was enjoying himself. “Isn’t it great? Admit it, you’re having fun.”

 

Norman replied through a laugh, “I’m having fun. Hey, give me the grand tour of this most sacred space.”

 

“My pleasure. Come this way, there’s a whole gallery of celebrity portraits made completely out of garbage!” As he made his way to the next room he murmured too low for Norman to hear, “I’m glad you’re having fun, kid.”

 

***

 

“You  _ what?! _ ”

 

Dipper cringed and held his cell phone away from his ear. “Jesus, Mabel, I think the whole park heard you!” He looked around this section of Union Square nervously, biting into the knish he’d grabbed from a nearby street cart. He was eating a quick lunch before yet  _ another _ TV interview, and the last thing he needed was his sister’s volume calling attention to him here.

 

“When were you gonna tell me?!” On the other end of the line, all the way over in San Francisco, Mabel ignored him and continued to speak loudly. 

 

“I just found out the other day,” Dipper couldn’t help the little smile that tugged at his lips. The incredible feeling of being nominated for a  _ Pulitzer fucking Prize _ still hadn’t worn off.

 

“Jeez, Dippin’ Sauce, god forbid you ever  _ call _ me! Not even a ‘happy new year’ on Rosh Hashanah, not even a ‘hey, how’s the wedding planning going’, not even a ‘don’t forget I’m on NBC tonight-”

 

“ABC,” he corrected. “I’m on ABC tonight. I’m actually on my way over there right now. I’ve just been busy.”

 

“Too busy for your  _ family _ , Dipshit?” He could hear Pacifica’s voice in the background, as if she was calling from another room.

 

“Do you have me on speaker?” His smile faded into a frown.

 

“Hey, where’s Norman, anyway?” Mabel completely changed the subject, as she was apt to do. “Don’t you guys have this weekend together?”

 

Dipper’s heart sunk. “He’s… been busy too.”

 

He was really starting to hate how absent he and Norman had been from each other’s lives lately. If one of them didn’t have something to do, the other did. Dipper hated to admit it, but as much as he loved being a Pulitzer-nominated author, it was far lonelier than childhood dreams had led him to believe.

 

“You okay, bro-bro?” Worry was seeping into Mabel’s voice. Even from across the country, she could always tell when something was up. “Is there anything I can do?”

 

“You’re busy planning a wedding all the way over there in California. That’s gotta take up a lot of time,” he forced a smile, hoping he sounded better than he felt. “A-anyway, I gotta go.”

 

“What? Already?”

 

“Yeah. Trina was  _ very  _ adamant that I get to the studio before two. Bye, Mabel.”

 

“Adíos!” His sister chirped, before hanging up the phone and leaving Dipper feeling even lonelier.

 

***

 

“So where are we going?”

 

Norman wasn’t at all surprised when Loki appeared to him on the Amtrak train he was taking to visit his niece in Stoneybrook. By now, he had not only grown used to the god’s habit of suddenly appearing out of thin air - he had begun to look  _ forward _ to it.

 

“Connecticut,” he responded.

 

“ _ Why _ ?” Loki sneered. “What on earth is there to do in Connecticut?”

 

Norman smiled as if Loki had merely asked about the weather. “My sister and her family live there. I’m going to visit my niece Christy Agatha. She’s…”

 

“...like you, I know already.” 

 

The medium wasn’t surprised that Loki had read between the lines, either. “It should be her decision, too…”

 

“How old is Christy, anyway?”

 

“She’s twenty-seven months.”

 

“Ugh, just say she’s two. And that’s a bitch of a decision for a two-year-old.”

 

Norman’s smile faded. He knew it was. He had been struggling in his head with how to even bring it up in terms she could understand since before he’d even boarded this train.

 

“What would you suggest, then? Making this decision without her? If there’s a chance we might lose our powers, she has a right to know  _ before _ I decide to give it up.”

 

He half-expected Loki to crack some snide joke about that. But the deity didn’t, nodding sagely instead. 

 

“You’re wiser than you look, kid.”

 

Norman gave the tiniest hint of a smile. “Did you seriously just compliment me?”

 

“I’ll never admit to it out loud,” Loki responded with a smirk of his own. “What’s in the bag, anyway?”

 

“Oh, uh… I stopped and got some books for her. Courtney says I need to stop spoiling her, but I just can’t help it.” He smiled as he thought of his niece’s face lighting up when she saw the gifts. “I just love her so much.”

 

“She can read?”

 

“W-well, no, not yet. But I read them to her,” Norman began pulling the books out of the bag to show off what he picked. “She likes zombies, so I got this one called  _ You and Me and Zombie Makes Three _ , about counting. This one,  _ Peanut Butter and Brains _ , is about a little zombie boy. And… I also got her a book of Norse myths.”

 

Loki arched an eyebrow and grabbed the book, flipping through it with a frown. “I don’t look like that.”

 

He had the book opened to an illustration of, well, Loki. The illustrator had drawn him looking almost feminine, with long, straight red hair and pointed ears like an elf, as well as elegant slanted blue eyes nothing like Loki’s gold ones. Norman couldn’t help but chuckle.

 

“That’s a good look for you, though.”

 

Loki snorted. “Let me guess, the author only included myths where I’m the bad guy.” Bitterly, he muttered, “Never mind all the times that I’ve saved their ungrateful asses… Odin forbid any of these books include the Lokatáttur...!”

 

Norman reached over and turned the page to an illustration of Loki helping Thor (who also didn’t look at all as he did in real life) into a wedding dress.

 

“You’re not the bad guy in this one… I think… I read through some of them in the store. And when I was researching a few weeks back.” He paused. “Loki… why are the other gods so mean to you?”

 

“I was ‘indirectly responsible’ for Odin’s kid’s death,” the god still sounded bitter. “That’s how Odin words it, anyway.”

 

“But you didn’t mean to do that… did you?”

 

“Depends which version of the myth you read.”

 

“That’s not what I asked,” Norman said.

 

If Loki was about to respond genuinely, the medium never got the chance to hear it. The train lurched, and a man walking by to get to the end of the car lost his footing, stumbling straight onto Norman’s foot. He winced at the sudden sharp pain. The stranger caught his balance and continued on his way. And Loki scowled.

 

“You’re just gonna let him walk away?”

 

“It was an accident,” Norman lifted his foot to rub the top of his shoe in an effort to make his poor toes feel better. “It’s not a big deal.”

 

“If he knew who you were, he’d be begging for your forgiveness!”

 

“I don’t want him to be sorry just because I’m famous or whatever. Anyway, it’s fine. It doesn’t hurt that bad…”

 

It was a lie and they both knew it. Loki sighed.

 

“You know what your problem is, kid?”

 

Norman didn’t respond, hoping vainly it would make Loki drop it. He was sure he had a lot of traits that his godly friend could consider a “problem”. 

 

“Your problem is that you’re a pushover.” Of fucking course Loki didn’t drop it.

 

“I’m not,” Norman frowned. “Not when it matters, anyway. I wasn’t a pushover with Bill!”

 

“You are. You need to learn to stand up for yourself. If Odin wants you to come before him and justify whatever decision you end up making, you’d  _ better _ be prepared to stand up to him, or the old bastard will eat you alive.”

 

“And, what,  _ you’re _ going to teach me?”

 

“What’s that skepticism for? I have no problem standing up for myself,” Loki grabbed the myth book back, and turned to the myth of his banishment. “Even this stupid book will tell you that.”

 

“The book says you insulted everyone.”

 

“You’re damn right I insulted everyone!” The deity’s eyes blazed. “Belief in us was waning, we were dying, and they refused to do anything about it except have their petty squabbles! So I stood before my pantheon, and I objected. I told each of them their faults, outright mocked their particular brand of stupidity, dragged out their tarnished vows, their arrogance, their short-sightedness. I shoved it in their faces, with the vain hope that they’d  _ see _ and be  _ better _ !” 

 

Norman was taken aback. It was, perhaps, the most raw honesty he’d ever seen from the god.

 

“They... didn’t,” Loki sighed and wilted back into the seat. “You know the rest of the story.”

 

“Your banishment…”

 

“It was stupid. It was childish. It was suicidal. And you know what? I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Win or lose, consequences or no, it was the right thing to do.”

 

Norman didn’t know what to say. What  _ could _ he say to an outburst like that? He had a feeling Loki would scoff at anything he would say. So he said nothing, instead settling for a pat to the god’s shoulder. 

 

It was his own way of letting him know of his support.

 

***

 

Courtney had been glad to see him when he arrived. A little  _ too _ glad, in fact.

 

“Please babysit my child. Mommy needs a wine break.”

 

Norman just smirked, ever the little shit. “Mommy’s always whining.”

 

But he was all too happy to have some time with Christy, so the two of them walked to the park that was a few blocks from the house. On the way, Norman struggled to find a way to ask what he needed to ask. 

 

Christy skipped joyfully, her pigtails bouncing, holding his hand the whole time. Only two years old - twenty-seven months. How could anyone expect her to make such a decision? Norman didn't want her involved in all this political god stuff. He wanted her to have the kind of simple childhood that he never could.

 

Maybe it was a useless wish.

 

“Christy?”

 

“Uncle Norman.” She still just looked completely overjoyed that he was here. She always did.

 

They crossed the threshold into the park and walked towards Christy’s favorite spot - the tree that was perfect for climbing. He gave her a boost that she probably didn't need to get up onto the branch. “Don't tell your mother, okay?”

 

“Psh. Like I’d ever!”

 

He hopped up onto the branch next to her as she planned her next move to climb higher. “I wanted to ask you something, okay? Not a joke something.”

 

“A cereal something.”

 

He stifled a laugh. “Y-yeah. Very cereal.”

 

The perfect branch presented itself and Christy pulled herself up with all the upper-arm strength of her mother. “What is it? Is it if I wanna come and live in New York with you? I do. I'm tired of Old York.”

 

He smiled up at her affectionately. “No. It's not that. We’ve talked about that already.”

 

“Yeah  _ yeah . _ I’d miss my mom and dad and they work  _ here . _ ”

 

“And ‘Old York’ is nice and quiet.”

 

“It's never quiet for  _ us _ , Uncle Norman.”

 

He knew. He nibbled his lip and pulled himself to a higher branch as Christy continued to ascend. He was grateful for these strong branches. “Would you… would you like it to be? Quiet, I mean.”

 

“No. I like loud things. Like this!” She yelled a loud, squeaky yell that echoed through the whole park and made Norman cringe.

 

“N-not the best time, C,” he said with an affectionate smile.

 

She nodded and climbed higher. “I like things loud.”

 

Norman sighed, figuring out his next move. “But… Do you like them loud all the time? Aren't there times you’d rather just see and hear only what other people can see and hear?”

 

“That sound  _ bo-ring! ” _

 

Norman finally just spit it out. “Do you like seeing the dead? Do you ever wish you couldn't? I know sometimes dead people can be scary, I wouldn't blame you if…”

 

Christy stopped climbing. She turned to sit on her branch and look at the mostly-empty park. Then she looked down at Norman. “I  _ like _ dead things, Uncle Norman.”

 

“No, I know, but-”

 

“If I couldn't see them, then who would be the referee of ‘where’s the ghost?!’ That’s everybody’s favorite game at school!”

 

“You mean daycare?”

 

“Tomatoe, tomato!” She said with a hand gesture that she could've only learned from her mother. “Besides, I learn so much from my dead friends!”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah! Henry was an electrician,” she said the word as if she didn't quite know what it meant but was pretending she did, “and he got electrocuted, and he teaches me about fire safety!”

 

“Ironic,” Norman murmured.

 

“And Lucy! She knows all the funnest magic tricks.”

 

“What happened to her?”

 

“She drowneded. Her assistant locked the chains too tight and she couldn't escape the tank.”

 

Norman was a little horrified at how causally Christy talked about that. “Christy…”

 

She just giggled. “And roadkills make really cute ghosts!”

 

Norman had to admit she was right, but-

 

“Besides! At Halloween, when everybody gets all scared, I won't be scared at all! I can't wait for Halloween! I'm gonna be a disgusting creature!”

 

He distinctly remembered Courtney telling him, “we already bought the Sleeping Beauty costume, but now she wants to go as some- some- disgusting  _ creature _ !”

 

Apparently Christy was thinking of the exact same conversation. “Mom says I’m just like you, Uncle Norman.”

 

He looked up at her with a sheepish smile. “Do you think so?”

 

“I  _ hope _ so.”

 

Norman chuckled. “I think you’re much prettier than I am.”

 

“That’s true,” she nodded sagely. “But I wanna be nice like you. And smart like you. And fun like you.” She gasped and suddenly stood up on her branch, holding the truck of the tree to keep her balance. “And  _ tall _ like you!”

 

Norman laughed and reached out for her. “Come here.”

 

She climbed down a little to give him a hug so big he almost toppled right out of the tree. But he never would have. 

 

He wouldn’t fall if it meant bringing Christy Agatha down with him.

 

“I love you, Uncle Norman.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

A few minutes later, Christy spotted a few of her (dead) friends from school and ran off to play with them. Some (living) children joined in on the fun, and soon there were quite a few kids, both living and dead, playing together in that way children do. Christy bridged the gap, letting the dead kids play with people their age. Norman took a seat at one of the benches to watch.

 

He wished he’d been able to do that as a kid. He supposed growing up in a world where everybody knew ghosts were real didn't hurt. Mostly, he was just glad he was alive to see this at all.

 

He felt a presence beside him on the bench. A beautiful woman with copper skin and dark curly hair and golden eyes was sitting seductively next to him. 

 

“Come here often, beautiful?”

 

“Smooth. I know it's you.”

 

“You’re just no fun at all.” Loki whined, resuming his usual disheveled form. 

 

Norman resumed watching the living and dead children run and shriek and play together. He thought it was supposed to be tag, but couldn't quite tell. Christy did have a habit of making up her own rules. “I can't give it up, Loki.”

 

“Hm?” The god raised an eyebrow.

 

“Look at her. Look how happy she is.”

 

Loki did look, and Norman saw his gaze soften again.

 

“How can I take that away from her when there's a chance that she could really be the future of the world? Who else is going to help the dead the way…?”

 

“The way  _ you  _ do, kid?”

 

Norman nodded.

 

The god breathed out through his teeth in that unsure way. “You know that could mean trouble? That Odin will want some other kind of solution, might even kill you over it?”

 

“As long as they don't touch her, I don't care what happens to me.”

 

“She’ll care, kid.” Norman dipped his head, knowing he was right. “And your boyfriend will, too.”

 

“I know…” Norman met his eyes. “But I’m doing what you told me to do. I’m standing up for myself.”

 

The silence that followed had Norman half-convinced Loki would argue with him, tell him this was the best possible option, try to talk him into giving it up. 

 

“Well, alright then!” Loki leaned back into the bench, putting his hands behind his head and crossing his ankles. “Back to square one. We’ll find some other way.”

 

Norman was a little surprised and a lot grateful for Loki’s support. “Thank you…”

 

“Don't get sappy, now. I’m just doing my job.”

 

But Norman could see something that was almost like worry in the clench of his jaw, something that told him that cunning mind was already working on new solutions. Solutions that, so far, the god didn't like very much.

 

He should’ve been afraid that Loki would kill him then and there. But he wasn’t afraid at all.

 

“Let’s get coffee once I get back to New York.” Norman offered after a moment. “We’ll figure it out together.”

 

Loki looked up at him, seeming tired. “You got it, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In some divination systems, the rune of Naudiz can signify the forces of fate, inner tension, or a resistance which leads to strength - if the right decisions are made.
> 
> Norman had a big decision to make this chapter. Let's hope he made the right one.


	9. Isa

Loki knew damn well that Odin was getting tired of waiting. Loki’s response to this was typically to spend as much time away from his pantheon as he could get away with.

 

So of course it made him feel rather indignant when Heimdall grabbed him one day, twisting his arm behind his back and forcibly  _ dragging _ him to one of those incessantly boring ‘Althing’ meetings.

 

“Why, Heimdall, I never knew you cared,” he said smarmily as he was forced into a chair and held down by the shoulders by the much bigger god.

 

“Piss off, Loki,” Heimdall responded.

 

“I’d love to, but I’m afraid your big, strong hands won’t let me-”

 

“ _ Loki! _ ” Odin thundered from his spot at the head of the table. “You’ve connived your way out of enough Althings as it is! You  _ know _ what this is regarding, so stop joking and explain yourself!”

 

“In the words of that wise mistress Mary Poppins, I never explain anything,” he replied. “And having your loyal dog here drag me in won’t change that.” He winced when Heimdall squeezed his shoulders painfully.

 

“You’d be wise not to call me a dog,” Heimdall glared down at him.

 

“You’re right, Heimdall, comparing you to a dog wasn’t fair to dogs. They’re noble beasts, and you? Not so much.”

 

“I mean it, Loki,” Odin’s one eye glared. “It’s been over a month, and I’ve  _ still _ heard nothing regarding the Babcock case. I thought you were going to take care of it.”

 

“The ‘Babcock case’,” he snorted incredulously. “I  _ am _ taking care of it.”

 

“What, by treating him to a day at Coney Island? Yeah,  _ real _ mature Loki,” a nearby goddess, Skadi, rolled her eyes. 

 

That one stung more than Loki wanted to let on. He and Skadi had been friends once due to their shared Jotun heritage, unique among their pantheon. It felt rotten that even  she had turned on him after his banishment. Not that he’d ever admit it. Instead, he matched Odin’s glare with one of his own.

 

“ _ Spying _ on me, Alfather? I thought we were blood brothers. You don’t  _ trust _ me?”

 

“Your manipulative words won’t work,” Odin said. “You know full well I don’t trust you. I’m giving you until the end of this week to  _ take care of it _ _._ ”

 

“Or  _ what _ ?” Loki snarled.

 

“Or  _ I _ will.”

 

That gave the trickster pause. The last thing he wanted was for Odin to ‘take care’ of Norman. He knew Odin didn’t think this kind of power could go unchecked. He knew in Odin’s eye, one of them had to go, whether it was Norman or Loki himself. 

 

There was only one option. One of them had to die.

 

He knew what he had to do to ensure that.

 

“I’ll… take care of it. I will,” he said as solemnly as he could.

 

“See to it that you do,” Odin nodded to Heimdall, who released Loki.

 

As he stood and walked away, he muttered more to himself than to anyone in the room:

 

“I always knew one of these Prenderghasts would be the death of me…”

 

***

 

_ Holland, 1608 _

 

“Prenderghast.”

 

That’s what the Dutch called her. Mary  Prenderghast . Typically, she didn’t pay much mind to what the Dutch said - none of her people cared what those ungodly  _ outsiders _ said - but this comment caught her attention. It was an older dialect of Dutch, Loki told her, referring to how much time she spent in the cemetery. It meant, he said,  _ ‘friend to ghosts’ _ .

 

(And though Mary prayed increasingly less every month, she still prayed often that they never realized how close to the truth the nickname really was.)

 

It got to the point where even her own people began calling her that. Others among her people got to be called things like Temperance Brown or Joseph Hawthorne or Hepzibah Smith. Nice, normal names. But not Mary. She was, from that point on, Mary Prenderghast.

 

The name followed her even when she didn’t want it to, stuck to her like tree sap. Even when she got married, in early 1608, she did not become Mary Whipple. Rather, her husband became John Prenderghast.

 

He was no Sol.

 

Mary hadn’t wanted to marry, of course. How could she ever see herself with anyone but her Sol? But, as the minister and the magistrates and the elders of the community (not to mention Mem, always too happy to stick her nose into Mary’s business)  _ constantly _ reminded her, God had instructed them to be fruitful and multiply. The success of their one true faith  _ depended _ on able-bodied women bearing children, and one could not do that if one were not married. Fornicators would be heavily fined, or even whipped.

 

Mary held out as long as she could, even trying to argue her case with one of the more sympathetic magistrates. “Our people view marriage as a contract between two people who love each other,” she had argued, “and how could I love anyone other than Sol?”

 

“What happened to young Solomon was tragic, no doubt,” the magistrate had said. “But you can learn to love another. God will provide. The social order  depends on you marrying any good man who would have you. And, let’s be honest, most men  _ wouldn’t _ have you.”

 

“ _ Excuse _ me?” She had been a little shocked by that offensive remark, but the magistrate had refused to elaborate.

 

John Whipple was a good man, they said. He was ten years her senior, a fact which Mary tried not to think about as he began courting her, but he was a good man. He was still no Sol. He was dull - he had never read any book but the Bible, and he didn’t stay out after dark to gaze up at the stars. He was kind to her, though. That much, even Mary could admit. In fact, that was all she could say about John Whipple. His sole personality trait was that he was  _ kind _ .

 

In the end, it was a conversation with Loki - who continued to visit her every now and then and help her keep her unusual powers under control - that convinced her to marry Goodman Whipple.

 

“How could you possibly understand?” she had asked him when he had shapeshifted to look like John and made fun of the poor man’s dullness. “He’s the only man in the village that would ‘have me’, as Mem  so  _ helpfully _ pointed out this morning. I should be _ throwing _ myself at him, shouldn’t I?”

 

“I hope not,” Loki had wrinkled his nose distastefully. “I never could stand girls who threw themselves at anyone. Have a little self-respect, kid.”

 

“No girl ever threw themselves at you, then?”

 

“Didn’t say that. You assume far too much,” he smirked, as if remembering something he would inevitably refuse to tell her about. 

 

“Were you ever married?”

 

His smirk had faltered, unless Mary had imagined that part. But his only verbal answer had been:

 

“You’ve known me  _ how _ long, kid? And you’ve never tried to look me up in a library?”

 

“My people don’t have-”

 

“So sneak into a Dutch one! Shake up the social order a bit!”

 

Shaking up the social order was something she knew she couldn’t  afford to do. So in the end, social pressures prevailed and she relented. She had married John Whipple with the intention of becoming Goody Whipple. Instead, the people had begun calling him Goodman Prenderghast. To his credit, John didn’t seem to mind. 

 

On the wedding night, Mary had closed her eyes and tried to think of Sol, instead.

 

Nine months later, a son arrived. Despite a rather difficult birth (the neighbor’s dogs would not stop howling, and the frazzled midwife found it the oddest thing) Mary thought he was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. 

 

The baby had the biggest, bluest eyes, as bright as the sky itself. He was bald other than a few wispy little curls, and Mary delighted in kissing the top of his soft little head. 

 

John had wanted to name him “Kill-Sin”, after his father, but Mary talked him out of that. They agreed to name the child after John.

 

Mary took John Junior to meet Sol, of course. Sol wasn’t jealous. He was  _ thrilled _ at the baby’s tiny fingernails and high-pitched little cooing noises and big, blue eyes. He made faces at the infant, and Mary laughed.

 

And then she realised little John was laughing, too, and reaching for Sol, gazing up at him with eyes that saw. Eyes with oddly faceted blue irises, just like hers had become after Loki had changed her. 

 

As if on cue, Loki appeared, wanting to meet the baby. 

 

The first thing he said was, “he has your eyes.”

 

That confirmed her suspicions. She hadn’t been imagining it. John Junior could see ghosts, just as she could.

 

“You knew, didn’t you?” Mary was breathless. “You knew this ability would be passed down.” This isn’t what she had wanted. This made things so much more  _ complicated _ ! How would she keep this a secret from the child’s father, let alone the rest of their people? How would she teach her child to do so?!

 

“I warned you,” Loki smirked unapologetically. Then, he went back to entertaining the baby, who was thrilled to have two new friends.

 

***

 

_ New York City, 2025 _

 

Norman sat in the Telegraphe Café nervously, waiting for Loki to arrive. He’d always liked this café - it was one of the first places he and Dipper had eaten together when they’d moved to the city, since it was so close to where Dipper’s doomed internship had been. But there wasn’t a lot of space to sit, and people were starting to give him  _ looks _ for taking up valuable table space. It was making him feel a little anxious. What if one of them looked too close and recognized him as “Norman ‘Blue Lightning’ Babcock, savior of the universe”?

 

Ultimately, he decided it was probably better to wait outside. The October air hadn’t gotten frigid enough for him to mind standing outside in the wind, anyway, especially if it meant helping someone else find a seat.

 

When Loki finally decided to show up - nearly fifteen minutes later - he wasn’t smiling. That was Norman’s first hint that something was wrong. The god looked altogether too  _ serious _ . 

 

“Loki?” He frowned. “Are… are you okay?”

 

“Let’s skip the niceties, kid.”

 

The medium’s skin crawled when he heard the flat, unfeeling tone in Loki’s voice. It was the same tone he’d used in the Met. Something was wrong here. Something was very wrong.

 

Before he had the chance to reflect on what, however, the god suddenly lit one of his hands on fire, throwing the fireball so that it hit the stone just behind Norman’s head. He could feel the heat as it whizzed past his ear, and it made him jump.

 

“Loki, what’re you-?!” 

 

But he stopped himself from saying anymore when he saw the cold look in that scarred face, in those golden eyes. Norman knew what this was. It had finally been decided what would be  _ done _ with him.

 

His first concern was that someone could get hurt, so he did what he had done back in D.C. The buildings back in Washington, D.C., had been a lot shorter than the ones here in Manhattan. He was a little winded by the time he passed the fifth story. Still, once he got to the roof, he stood his ground as he faced the Norse god who he’d begun to consider a friend.

 

Loki was standing slightly in the shadow of a slightly taller building, the wind blowing in his red hair, the shade on his face giving him a slightly sinister look.

 

“S-so,” Norman gulped, trying to sound brave and certain he was failing at it. 

 

“So,” Loki repeated, no emotion in his voice whatsoever. His gold eyes stared at Norman as if he was staring at strangers on the train.

 

“You’ve decided to kill me after all, then?” 

 

The god paused to take a breath. “‘Fraid so, kid.”

 

Norman didn’t want to admit it out loud, but he’d kind of hoped it wouldn’t come to this. He’d thought they were friends now. He’d thought Loki cared about him.

 

Maybe he had been too naïve.

 

“You gonna hit me or what?” Loki broke the silence.

 

“Of course I’m not going to hit yo-  _ Ah _ !” 

 

He yelped as, mid-sentence, he was cut off by a fist to the face. The pain radiated outwards from his jaw, and he stumbled back, tripping against some piping and tumbling backwards. He looked up at the god in shock.

 

“Don’t be so  _ stupid _ ,” Loki spat, lighting his fist aflame again.

 

Norman’s eyes widened. They were way too close to the residential part of 18th Street for Loki to be throwing around fireballs like that. Despite the dull pain in his face, he scrambled to his feet.

 

The god threw the flame at him again, this time aiming for his chest. 

 

Norman jumped out of the way and watched the fire hit a taller section of the roof. 

 

His heart was pounding. 

 

“Come on. Kid!” Loki taunted. “ _ Hit _ me! Fight back like you did in D.C.!”

 

“N-no!” Norman shook his head, “I won’t!”.

 

Another fireball came, too fast this time. Norman tried to dodge, but it singed part of his ankle, making him wince. Still, he kept running, away from the residential areas, away from any chance of that fire hitting someone innocent.

 

“I’m not gonna fight you!” He repeated the sentiment. “Loki, please-”

 

“Stop being so sentimental - it’s  _ pathetic _ !”

 

What could Norman do but keep running? Even if it only meant prolonging his death, wasn’t that what Dipper would want him to do?

 

_ Dipper _ .

 

Norman had to call Dipper! He had to let him know, he couldn’t let him find out from the news. Maybe Dipper would even know a way out of this situation, a way that Norman couldn’t exactly see as he ran over the rooftop.

 

He hastily dug into his pocket, fingers curling around the phone.

 

“C-call Dipper,” he yelped desperately into the phone.

 

It rang once. Twice. And then Norman stumbled, the phone slipping from his fingers.

 

What could he do, stoop down to grab it? He had to keep running.

 

Even that was no use, though. Loki teleported right in front of him.

 

“Stop running and  _ hit  _ me! Fight back, damn it! You fought Bill Cipher, so why not me?!”

 

“Y-you’re not Bill Cipher,” Norman panted.

 

Loki bristled and grabbed him, far too tightly. His hands were still hot - Norman could feel them burning him even through the fabric of his clothes.

 

“And you’re being an idiot,” the god responded, lifting him up and throwing him.

 

The sudden weightlessness disoriented Norman enough that he didn’t realize he was flying across the street. That is, until his midsection collided with the railing around the roof of the ornately decorated six-story shopping center across the street.

 

The wind was knocked out of him in an instant, but Norman’s hands still fumbled for purchase as he began to slip downwards. His fingers, in a last-ditch effort to save himself, closed around the railing.

 

For a few agonizing seconds, he dangled there precariously. By now, people below were definitely starting to notice.

 

He struggled to catch his breath, hearing Loki calling from across the street:

 

“That wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t such a pathetic coward!”

 

Before he could gather enough breath to speak, let alone respond to that, more fire came, this time in a steady stream of flame arching over the street - and its confused pedestrians - below.

 

Loki wasn’t aiming at Norman, though. He was aiming at the metal railing Norman was clinging to.

 

The metal began to get hotter. The medium’s blue eyes widened and he was forced to let go with a yelp, his hands burning painfully.

 

He began to fall towards the street below. Would this fall kill him? Was six stories too high to survive a fall from?

 

He smashed into the sign of the Marshall’s store with a loud  _ slam _ , breaking his fall. As half the sign tore itself out of the stonework, his body toppled over the awning, rolling until he fell about eight feet into the middle of the street below, right onto his shoulder. The Marshall’s sign dangled helplessly and Norman fumbled as he dragged himself to his feet.

 

All at once, he heard the screeching of tires and the loud honk of a horn. Norman felt himself rolling over the hood and roof of a car that had hit the brakes a little too late, bruising his poor battered form even more.

 

“Get the fuck out of the road!” The driver was irate. Norman mumbled an apology as he peeled himself from the top of the car. A crowd was definitely starting to gather now, whispering to each other and wondering if they were seeing who they thought they were seeing.

 

He looked up even though it made his neck sting. Loki was on top of the decorated stonework of the sixth-story building Norman had just fallen from, glaring down menacingly.

 

The medium gathered up what little strength he had left. Every part of him was aching. He could feel blood trickling out of his nose, he could taste it in the back of his throat. 

 

Somehow, he found it in him to levitate back up to the roof where Loki stood waiting for him, but the levitation was shaky. He barely made it. He didn’t have much power left in him at all. 

 

It had all been replaced with pain.

 

“What, you’re just gonna keep coming back for more?!” Now, Loki didn’t sound so blasé. He sounded  _ angry _ . Furious, even.

 

Norman couldn’t even talk through how much he was struggling to breathe. Even if he could, what would he say to that? What  _ could  _ he say?

 

Suddenly, without warning, Loki’s hands grabbed Norman’s shoulders and  _ slammed  _ his frail human body against the brick wall of a neighbouring building. 

 

Norman let out the tiniest cry. God, that had  _ hurt _ !

 

“Stop being so damn stupid!” The trickster god screamed into his face, punctuating the command with a punch straight to Norman’s already-bloodied lip.

 

The medium could feel his lip catching on his teeth. It was so painful. The betrayal was even more painful. But he said nothing.

 

“I know you’re smarter than this!” Loki punched him in the chest, his knuckles colliding with Norman’s bruised ribs.

 

Still, Norman said nothing.

 

“What about your niece, huh?” Another punch hit his ear. “And that boyfriend of yours?!” And another got him in the stomach. “ _ Damn it, kid _ _!_ Stop being  _ stupid _ !”

 

Through it all, through the entire barrage of punches, Norman didn’t speak. By now, he’d resigned himself to his fate. If he was going to be killed, then he was going to be killed as a pacifist. After all, it was clear, Loki wouldn’t let him escape. And he couldn’t take much more of this.

 

“Why won’t you fight back?!”

 

His knees gave out. He crumpled.

 

Again, Loki lifted him roughly. Again, the god moved as if to throw him. 

 

But he didn’t throw him. Not yet. Instead, he dangled Norman over the side of the building, a sheer drop awaiting the medium’s battered body whenever Loki decided to let go.

 

“Last chance, kid! Is this really what you want your boyfriend to see on TV tonight? Or your friends in California and Massachusetts? Your sister and your niece? You want them to turn on the news to see your corpse on the pavement because you were too sentimental to throw a damn punch at me?!”

 

Norman’s breathing was labored, and his voice gurgled slightly from the blood in his mouth. But he managed to struggle through two words:

 

“I… won’t…”

 

An eternity seemed to pass in a second.

 

Then, a look of disgust passed over Loki’s scarred pavement, and he tossed Norman across the street again, towards the scaffolding of a building under construction.

 

Norman was unconscious before he hit the scaffolding.

 

Up on top of the shopping center, Loki huffed, staring at his handiwork below. People on the streets were screaming, some of them calling 911 or filming on their cell phones. 

 

Well. He’d certainly made a scene.

 

The god popped back over to the previous building to grab Norman’s cell phone from where it had fallen, noting the six missed phone calls and twelve texts from Dipper Pines. He wiped Norman’s blood off his hands using the hem of his shirt, then shoved the phone into his pocket.

 

He looked over to the scaffolding on the other building, to Norman’s crumpled form.

 

“Damn it, kid,” Loki muttered under his breath before going to take care of the situation.

 

***

 

Loki didn’t bother with the lock when he got Norman back to his apartment. Not that he ever did even at the best of times - usually he just teleported to the living room - but this? This was urgent. He had to get Norman laying down as soon as possible. He didn’t know what would happen after that - maybe he’d call an ambulance and then leave - but he had to get him laying down. Humans were so  _ fragile _ , even a human as powerful as Norman.

 

Unable to teleport with a human slung over his shoulder, he shot lightning at the lock of the door, breaking it and then kicking it open, not bothering to close it behind him.

 

He was  _ not _ expecting Dipper Pines to be standing there. He watched Dipper’s face change into an almost comically shocked expression, and it occurred to him that this was the first time he’d actually met Dipper. 

 

Loki supposed it wasn’t the worst first impression he’d ever made, but it was certainly up there. Top five, at least.

 

“ _ Norman! _ ” Dipper was pale. “Wha-?!”

 

“Shit,” the god muttered under his breath. He had been hoping to get in and out without having to deal with anything like this. But he didn’t let it show that Dipper’s presence threw him off. He knew better than to do that. He shrugged, Norman’s limp form lifting slightly with his shoulder. “Delivery!”

 

“Y-you’re Loki, aren’t you?” Dipper frowned. “So it’s true… Get him down on the couch, I’ll go get the first aid kit! Oh my god, Norman…”

 

Loki watched Dipper running to grab the kit, watched him running his shaky hands through those brown curls. In any other circumstances, he may have found this behavior amusing, but now it was anything but.

 

“And you’re the neurotic boyfriend,” Loki buried his own feelings even deeper under layers of snark. 

 

He easily dropped Norman’s lanky body to the couch. Norman bounced once against the cushion, but didn’t wake. His body was bruised. A  _ lot _ . Loki didn’t like looking at those bruises, so he just looked around their apartment, feigning interest in the horror movie posters framed on the blue wall.

 

Dipper, to his credit, took no notice of the god’s actions as he knelt before Norman with a hitched gasp. “Oh, Norman… wh-what happened to you?”

 

Loki arched an eyebrow as he eyed the boyfriend. He looked pretty pathetic, kneeling like that. And did he honestly expect an unconscious Norman to answer? He took it upon himself to reply:

 

“I beat the shit out of him. Thought that was obvious.”

 

“You-!” Dipper whirled to face the trickster god, anger suddenly filling his features. “ _ You _ did this to him?!”

 

Ah,  _ there _ was the anger he’d been seeking from Norman earlier.  _ There _ was the anger he was used to being treated with.

 

“Why is that so surprising? Didn’t he tell you I hadn’t decided what to do with him yet?”

 

Dipper stood up, furious. And then - completely out of nowhere - he sent a fierce left hook straight to Loki’s jaw.

 

The god flinched from the punch, more out of surprise than pain. He hadn’t expected Dipper to actually punch him, having written him off as a nebbish nerd. He’d underestimated him, even if it didn’t hurt. His jaw was stronger than stone, after all.

 

“Ooh,  _ feisty _ !”

 

Dipper didn’t seem to feel any sting in his knuckles just yet, in his adrenalin-fueled rage. He screamed at the trickster, “Why?! Why would you do this?!”

 

“I see. So you’re a ‘punch first, ask questions later’ kinda guy.” Why, Loki wondered, couldn’t Norman be more like his boyfriend? It would have been easier that way.

 

“Why would you lead him on and make him think you were his friend and then beat him to a  _ pulp _ ?! How could you take him to museums and amusement parks and then do this?! How could you be so  _ cruel _ ?!”

 

“I never pretended to be his friend,” Loki glared. That wasn’t exactly true, but it wasn’t exactly a lie, either. “Besides, he should have known better than to trust a trickster.” He was trying harder than he’d ever admit to pretend he didn’t care. “Now are you really going to waste your time yelling at me, or are you going to take care of your idiot boyfriend’s bloody nose?”

 

“ _ He _ should have known better?!” Dipper’s face went red. Then, he punched him again, this time aiming up at his nose.

 

Loki didn’t flinch that time, even if it almost hurt. “I’m a god, in case you missed that part.”

 

“Get the  _ hell _ out of my apartment!”

 

He raised his hands sarcastically and began to back away. “I was just leaving.”

 

“And I don’t want you coming back!” Dipper just continued to scream. “I don’t want you anywhere near him ever again, you bag of  _ dicks _ !”

 

Loki didn’t grace that with an answer. He just teleported away immediately, without a joke, without a word, without anything.

 

Dipper sighed, unclenching his fists before going to close the door. It didn’t latch shut, so he shoved a chair in front of it. There was no time to worry about the damn door right now, Norman was more important. Then, he went back to kneeling before his unconscious boyfriend, opening the first aid kit to begin treating him. 

 

His hands were still trembling slightly with the remnants of silent rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hanukkah!


	10. Sowilo

Estiatorio Milos in Midtown, only three blocks from the southern end of Central Park, was  _ pristine _ . Odin eyed the stark, white walls and the diners in fancy suits and little black dresses and diamond necklaces choosing their fish in this chic, industrial,  _ wildly _ expensive restaurant setting as he was lead to a private room in the back by a woman in a waitress uniform. Unbeknownst to these rich New Yorkers, most of their waitresses - including Hebe, the woman currently holding Odin’s sleeve - were thousands of years old.

 

Normally, he would have enjoyed the  _ Xenia _ , the Greek concept of hospitality, that allowed him to eat in this restaurant for free. The Greek deities who owned this restaurant believed it their religion’s obligation to treat associates of their pantheon with generosity in the form of fresh seafood, olive oil, hummus, and various other Mediterranean culinary delights. Odin wasn’t a big hummus eater, but he would never turn down a good fish.

 

He didn’t enjoy it when Hebe brought him to the private room, however. Because he knew why he was being summoned here. He knew that, as usual, he would be expected to take responsibility for his pantheon’s actions. The  _ skogkatt _ was out of the bag, so to speak. And any hope of keeping this between himself and Zeus were dashed when he saw who else was seated at the table.

 

“Zeus,” he nodded at his host, as well as his stern wife. “And Hera as well. You look as lovely as ever.” He turned to the dark-skinned couple at his left. “Osiris. Isis. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

 

It wasn’t a pleasure and everyone sitting at that table knew it. It never was when representatives from more than two pantheons were called to meet. If Zeus had called the Egyptians, Odin knew it meant he was, for lack of a better term, in  _ deep shit . _

 

“Hebe,” Zeus grinned at the waitress, a smile coming easily to his face, “more wine, please? The xinomavro, if you would.”

 

Odin could feel the tension in the air rising as Hebe left the room to fetch the wine. His irritation was rising as well. He didn’t like the way everyone was beating around the bush. He just wanted them to tell them what this was about and get it over with.

 

He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “If this is regarding the Babcock case, then just say so. I don’t have time for this.”

 

“Oh?” Zeus turned his smile on the Norseman. “Because it’s been  _ years _ since that little stint in Washington D.C. and he’s still running around with  _ unprecedented _ cosmic power. Seems to me as if you think you have all the time in the world.”

 

“How,” Odin’s eye narrowed, “did you find out?”

 

“The same way that I assume you did,” Osiris responded right as Hebe returned, taking a sip of his wine. “Modern scientific analysis is  _ amazing _ , is it not?”

 

“No one is accusing you of anything,” Isis added quickly, as calm as she ever was. Odin had always appreciated her ability to stay uncannily calm, but right now it was infuriating. “We only want answers.”

 

“Yes, like is your plantheon planning to  _ do _ anything?” Hera was less calm, and, despite Isis’s assurance, a lot more accusatory. “Or were you just going to let him run around until he gains a cult and conveniently earns more indirect belief for the Norse? Hm?”

 

“Is that what you think this is about?” Odin asked. “For your information, I’m as displeased about it as you are and my pantheon is taking care of it. I didn’t authorize this imbalance of power, and I want to get it over with, too.”

 

“How long have you been ‘taking care of it’, I wonder?” Zeus gazed into his glass of wine. 

 

“What is  _ that _ supposed to mean?”

 

“Only that you Norse used to be so good at nipping problems in the bud. Perhaps you should let someone more qualified deal with the Babcock boy.”

 

“That  _ won’t _ be necessary,” Odin grumbled. He couldn’t believe the pressure they were putting him under for something that was none of their business, or the sheer  _ audacity _ of ganging up on him like this. “Babcock will be dealt with before the end of this month.”

 

“We certainly hope so,” Osiris nodded.

 

Odin swore to himself that if he wasn’t, he would kill Loki for putting him this position.

 

***

 

Dipper cancelled as many appearances as he could, which unfortunately wasn't most of them, but it still left far more time than usual that he could spend at home. He got back from a morning meeting to find Norman asleep in their bed. Dipper hated all the bruises and cuts and burns on his pale skin. They were lucky Norman didn't have to be taken to a hospital. He knew how much Norman hated hospitals.

 

The older man sat delicately on the bed and began unwrapping Norman’s sprained ankle. It was a testament to how exhausted he must've been that Norman didn't even stir at first. 

 

Gently, he finished the task before moving up towards the head of the bed and running a hand through Norman’s soft hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead. He wanted to kiss him properly, but part of Norman's lip was swollen and bruised and the last thing Dipper wanted was to hurt him.

 

Those blue eyes began to flutter and Dipper managed a small smile. “Hey.”

 

“Hey.” Norman smiled just seeing Dipper above him.

 

“Feeling any better?”

 

“Yeah. Thanks, Dipper,” Norman pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, but Dipper could see the badly-concealed pain in his boyfriend’s face.

 

“I-if you need any painkillers, let me know.”

 

“I’m good.” Norman took his hand. “They always make me woozy.”

 

The medium started to sit up, but Dipper caught him and laid him back down. “Don't get up! Just lemme know what you need and I’ll get it for you.”

 

The other man laughed. “Dipper… I’m not that hurt.”

 

He didn't believe that for a second. “Still…”

 

“Well…” Norman reached up to put his free hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “If I’m not allowed to sit up, will you lay back with me?”

 

Dipper could almost feel the anxiety lessen as his expression softened. “There’s nothing I want more.” He started to lower himself beside Norman.

 

But before he could hold him like he’d been dying to for hours, a nonchalant Loki waltzed into their bedroom unannounced. “Knock knock!”

 

Dipper sat back up and spluttered. “I thought I told you to leave us  _ alone! _ ”

 

The god scoffed. “I didn't listen to  _ Odin . _ What made you think I’d listen to you?”

 

Norman stared quietly. The last time he’d seen Loki, the god was holding him six stories off the ground, ready to kill him. Seeing him now, it was almost as if the fight on 18th street had never happened at all. 

 

Norman wasn't afraid of him. If Loki was going to kill him, he would've done it already. Besides, he had a feeling there was more to worry about than Loki. He had spent most of his bedridden moments thinking about why Loki did it at all, and his mind always caught on what Loki said to him. Everything he did was to try and get Norman to fight back. And what would’ve happened if he had?

 

If Norman was strong enough to take down an eldritch abomination, then who was to say he couldn’t take down a god, especially one who wasn't as strong as he used to be? And looking at him then, Norman didn't doubt it.

 

“What do you want?!” Dipper was furious. “To gloat?! To rub it in?! Just  _ get out! _ ”

 

Loki was looking right at Norman, with something unfamiliar in his gold eyes. His voice was surprisingly soft. “How are you feeling, kid?”

 

For some reason, the god had wanted Norman to hurt him somehow. As a warning? Would that somehow keep him safe? Norman didn't know. “Better than a few days ago.”

 

“No thanks to you!” Dipper was less than pleased. Norman put a gentle hand on his arm to help ground him, and felt him take a breath. “Why are you here?”

 

“To annoy you. It's my sole reason for existence,” Loki spoke dryly. 

 

“Loki.” Norman was too tired to play mediator, but he would if he had to. 

 

He watched the god’s face harden with annoyance. “Why didn't you fight back?!”

 

It only confirmed what Norman had thought. He sighed. “I’m a pacifist.”

 

“ _ I ’m _ not!” Dipper snarled.

 

“It was worth a shot.” Loki seemed to be pretending Dipper wasn't there.

 

“You have a lot of nerve showing up where you're not wanted!” Norman could see that Dipper was livid.

 

Loki snapped right back at him. “You sheltering your boyfriend from people he may or may not wanna see is  _ not  _ going to make him less of a pushover, Pines!”

 

“ _ Loki .”  _ Norman did sit up, despite what Dipper had said. “Lay off, okay?”

 

“I will if he does,” Loki mumbled petulantly.

 

Dipper spluttered for a moment. “ _ Fine _,”_ _ h e huffed. “For Norman. Not for you! What are you doing here, anyway?”

 

“Didn't feel like sitting at work,” Loki brushed him off.

 

Dipper opened his mouth to reply, but before he could there was a crash in the kitchen. “What was that?”

 

A tanned man with messy curls atop his head poked his head into the room, his eyes lighting up when he saw Loki in the room. “There you are!”

 

“Who the hell are you?” Dipper was ignored.

 

“I looked all over Wall Street for you, you know,” the curly-haired man continued with a friendly smile. “Shoulda known you’d skip work with all that’s been going on lately.”

 

Loki’s smirk only grew as the man continued speaking, looking as if he was planning something. Sure enough, he jumped up from his spot to pull the other man into a headlock. “Hermes!”

 

“Hermes?” Norman just stared with wide, confused eyes.

 

The other god - he was a god, wasn’t he? - released himself from Loki’s headlock with a laugh, poking Loki in the side before focusing his warm eyes on Norman. “Ooh! Is that him?” He approached Norman they way one might approach an interesting hamster. “The famous Prenderghast boy?”

 

“Babcock boy, actually.” Norman met Hermes’ gaze. “I prefer Norman.”

 

Loki nodded and gestured to Norman. “Who else could it be? Look at all that hair!”

 

“Nice to meet you, Norman!” Hermes tipped an invisible hat. “Sorry about the kitchen. Did  _ not _ stick the landing how I wanted to.” He turned back to Loki, his tone going serious, but he didn’t speak lower. “Listen. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here, so I don’t know how long I have, but Zeus knows about that little stunt you two pulled on 18th Street. And he is  _ not happy. _ ” He spoke conspiratorially. “You didn’t hear it from me.”

 

“Stunt?” Norman breathed. “The fight?” He looked up at Loki, who didn’t meet his gaze.

 

“Yeah, that one. I’m not supposed to be warning you but…” He shrugged. “It’s the right thing to do.”

 

“Zeus knows.” There was something strange in Loki’s voice. “That means Osiris does, too.”

 

Hermes nodded solemnly. 

 

“N-Norman,” Dipper looked understandably flustered, having only just found his voice again. “Did we leave an ‘all gods welcome’ sign up on our door or something?!”

 

Hermes chuckled, his mood quickly changing back to light. “And who are you?”

 

“He’s Dipper Pines.” Norman answered for him. Dipper glanced at him. “World famous author.” He looked to Loki. “What do Zeus and Osiris know?”

 

“That you came from us.” What was that new tone, anyway? It wasn’t fear. “Are they planning anything, Herm?” Loki asked.

 

Hermes had slowly been approaching Dipper in that same fascinated way, and he answered distractedly. “Not yet. Only because they’re expecting Odin to. If he doesn’t, then one of them will step in. It’s only a matter of time.” He stared at Dipper for a moment before beginning to pace. It was as if the god couldn’t stand still. “Pines. Pines. Doesn’t ring a bell. But there’s something about you…” He snapped his fingers. “Your mother,” he spoke definitively, “Was English on her mom’s side!”

 

“I-I guess?” Dipper was thrown by that. “I… don’t know. Why?”

 

“No way.” The Greek God smiled, turning to Loki. “No  _ way ! _ Really? Do you realize who he is?!”

 

“Other than the bane of my existence?” That’s when Norman pinpointed that absent minded tone. Loki was  _ worried _ .

 

“ _ He _ _,_ ” Hermes looked like he was ready to burst at the seams. “Is the great great great great…” He counted quite a few more greats on his long fingers. “ _ Great _ grand-nephew of Solomon!”

 

Dipper didn’t get it. “Who?”

 

But Norman did. His jaw dropped.

 

“Your ancestor is the reason  _ his _ ancestor made the deal with good ol’ Loki here.” He made an explosion gesture by his head, to signify how blown his mind was. “Small world, huh?”

 

Dipper just shook his head. “My- My family was never Puritan. I mean, I’m Jewish for god’s sake!” He thought about that. “Gods’ sake? Godses…?”

 

“On your dad’s side, sure! But not your mom’s. Besides, Solomon was a convert.” He looked excitedly between Dipper and Norman, as if he’d just solved a rubix cube. 

 

“Woah, woah, wait!” Norman shook himself. He looked to Loki. “Really?”

 

The god finally met his eyes, though he still looked distracted. “Yeah. I noticed. Didn’t have time to mention it, though.” He raised an eyebrow at Dipper. “Between all the verbal and physical beatings.”

 

“So…” Dipper was too shocked to even respond. “We’re like… destined to be together?”

 

“No such thing as destiny!” Hermes shook his head. “It’s just a funny coincidence. It didn’t work out for those two in the end, but…” He looked to Loki with all the familiarity of centuries of friendship. “It’ll work out better for these two, won’t it?” It sounded like a friendly challenge for some reason. 

 

Loki smirked. “Yeah. It will.” Some part of the conversation was going over Norman’s head, but he imagined that was to be expected when dealing with actual gods.

 

Instead of trying to figure them out, Norman focused his gaze on Dipper. He spoke softly. “I know why she did it… Why Mary made the deal.” He found Dipper’s hand. “I’d have done it for you.”

 

Dipper paused for a moment, just looking at him. Then he gently brought Norman’s hand up, kissing his knuckles. “I know. Me too, Norman.”

 

“Well!” Loki broke the spell. “I’m gonna hit the road, since it looks like these two are about to bang.”

 

Neither of them even responded, too caught up in each other.

 

Hermes smirked. “I know a great bar in Brooklyn if you wanna drink.”

 

“Great!” Loki led the other god out of the room. “Let’s  _ pint _ the town red!”

 

Norman distantly heard Hermes laugh, feigning outrage. “Was that a fucking pun?!” But he didn’t care about any of that. All he cared about was staring into those kind brown eyes he loved more than anything in the world. 

 

“I don’t know if I believe Hermes about destiny,” Norman heard himself saying. “How else…?”

 

Dipper pulled him into a hug. “How else?”

 

Norman wished he could stay there against his chest forever.

 

***

 

_ Holland, 1620 _

 

Despite the hardships of her people being a minority among the Dutch, Mary did her best to provide for her son, who she loved dearly. Her husband worked hard so that they could live comfortably, and Mary and her son frequented the cemetery. Little John did not tell his father about his abilities - Mary taught him to keep them secret.

 

“Why can I not tell Father?” The child was curious, and began asking questions practically as soon as he could speak. “Even if he can’t see our friends, surely he would understand?”

 

“Perhaps, but the others in our village wouldn’t,” Mary answered the same every time, with a sympathetic little smile. “You know how they look down upon outsiders. You mustn’t tell anyone, John. Not about your ghosts, and not about Loki, do you hear me?”

 

“Yes, Mama,” John would pout, but ultimately listen.

 

Loki stuck around, too, much to Mary’s surprise. The god took care to never visit when her husband was home, and he and young John took to each other like bees to a flowerbed. He’d disappear for months on end, but he would always return, and was surprisingly soft with the child considering how cold and tempestuous he had always been with  _ her _ .

 

And - despite hardships, despite feeling like an outsider among outsiders, despite being wed to one man and still in love with another who was long-dead now  - Mary was  _ happy _ .

 

It was a shame, then, that it couldn’t possibly last.

 

When John Junior was eleven, Mary and her little family were walking back home from church one afternoon when they passed a small group of men carrying boxes towards the shore. 

 

“Where are they going?” Little John - though he was getting so tall now that soon Mary wouldn’t be able to call her beloved son ‘little’ - watched the men curiously.

 

“To the  _ Speedwell _ , of course,” the boy’s father frowned. “Though they shouldn’t be doing that work on a Sunday. The Lord forbids work on His Sabbath, Junior.”

 

“The  _ Speedwell _ ?” Mary watched them walk off. “A ship?”

 

“I was certain your friend Remembrance would have told you already,” John Senior looked bemused.

 

She repressed the urge to roll her eyes at the idea of being friends with  _ Mem _ . “Told me what?”

 

“Our leaders have decided the sinful Dutch are a bad influence on our children,” her husband ruffled his son’s hair. “So we’ll be taking the  _ Speedwell _ back to England to meet up with a larger party of fellow Godly ones, and from there, King James has granted us permission to board a larger ship and set up a colony in the New World.”

 

“Th-the New World…?” Mary’s mouth went dry. Her blood ran cold. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

 

“Mama?” Concern filled the eleven-year-old’s face. “Are you okay?”

 

“Mary, John Junior is right, you look pale. Here, lean on my arm.”

 

But her pulse was far too loud to take their words in. She turned on her heels and ran in the opposite direction, feet racing almost as quickly as her thoughts. It couldn’t be true. It just  _ couldn’t _ _!_ The New World was all the way across a vast ocean, a wilderness thousands of miles away from everything she’d ever known. She was used to towns with buildings and winding streets and bustling markets full of people speaking Dutch. But the New World was empty of all of that - there were no buildings, no streets, no markets! 

 

And there were no cemeteries! No  _ Sol _ _!_ She didn’t want to believe it was true, but what could she do? The decision had already been made, and if she stayed in Holland, she’d be separated from her son. Oh, it just wasn’t  _ fair ! _

 

Her feet, seemingly of their own accord, took her straight to the cemetery, where she finally collapsed onto her hands and knees, sobbing before Sol’s grave. 

 

“It’s not fair,” she blubbered. “It’s just not fair!  _ Why _ _?!_ ”

 

“Mary,” Sol’s familiar voice, usually a comfort, only served to remind her of how painful it would be to be separated from him once more. “Mary, breathe! What is it, love? I’m right here… my Mary…”

 

“It’s not fair…” she repeated weakly, trying to get her ugly sobs under control. “I can’t lose you again, Sol, I just  _ can’t _ _!_ ”

 

“What are you talking about? You’re not going to lose me. I’m not going anywhere…”

 

“But  _ I _ am!”

 

“I don’t understand,” Sol’s brows knit.

 

“W-we’re leaving Holland and going to the New World,” Mary continued to cry, wiping at her face with her sleeves. 

 

“A-and it’s already been decided?” He looked just as thrown as she felt. Though he’d deny it, she knew he was equally upset.

 

“Oh, Sol, what will we  _ do _ _?!_ I don’t want to leave Europe - but I can’t stay here without my son!”

 

“I wish I could hold you, Mary. I wish I could kiss your tears away,” Sol ran one of his ghostly hands through his hair, which he only ever did when distressed. “It would be selfish of me to ask you to stay. Of course you have to stay with your son… He needs you more than I do, now…”

 

“But what about  _ you _ ?” Mary sniffled pathetically. “The New World will be a dark chapter in my life without my Solomon.”

 

Sol paused. He seemed to be considering something.

 

“...S-Sol?”

 

“It’s… it’s Salome, actually…”

 

She was so confused by such an odd comment that she stopped crying completely.

 

“What are you  _ talking _ about?”

 

“My name, Mary. My parents didn’t name me Solomon - they named me Salome.” Sol refused to meet her confused gaze, sitting and drawing his knees up to his chest. “I was their youngest  _ daughter _ . But I never wished to be. I always knew in my  _ heart _ that God had meant for me to be a boy.”

 

She was stunned into silence. This had to be a dream. This day was so surreal, so strange, that Mary was sure she would wake up any minute now. But she didn’t wake up. And Sol kept speaking:

 

“When my family tried to marry me off to a loathsome man, I could bear it no longer. I couldn’t live as a woman when I felt like a man. So I found a group of people who wouldn’t ask questions about my past, who would believe me if I said I was a man…”

 

“...our church,” Mary realised. “You… that’s why you never spoke about your past. You joined our church to escape it. To live as…”

 

“...as the man I always felt like I was inside,” he finished. 

 

“But why are you telling me this now?”

 

Finally, he looked back up into her stunned face. “Because… I can’t stand to see you so upset about leaving Holland. So maybe if you hate me, it’ll be easier for you.”

 

He looked so sadly resigned, as if he’d already decided Mary would hate him. But she couldn’t. When she thought about it, it didn’t change a thing. 

 

“I don’t hate you.”

 

“You just think it’s a sin?”

 

“Sol, you know I stopped believing in sin years ago… I don’t care about your past. You’re my sun and all my stars. You’re my Sol…”

 

His lip trembled as if  _ he _ were the one about to cry, but he didn’t. He smiled sadly at her.

 

“I love you more than I’ve ever had words for, Mary…”

 

She wished she could embrace him. She wished so many things were different.

 

***

 

_ New York City, 2025 _

  
  


He could feel Hermes’ gaze boring into the back of his head as he downed another shot, adding the empty glass to his growing collection. Loki wanted to burn the memories out of his head, forget about Norman’s blood on his hands and on the floor. That, or he wanted to forget Coney Island. Forget the stupid art museum. Forget the kid’s jokes and forget how hard he laughed at Loki’s antics and  _ forget _ how holding that fragile human made him remember how it felt to be a father. 

 

It would’ve been easier to kill him right away. But that ship had sailed.

 

“You’re good at faking it.” Hermes finally broke the silence. He waited for Loki to reply, but he didn’t. “If I didn’t know you, I’d never guess that you cared about the kid.”

 

“Pretty sure he knows, Herm.” Why else would Norman let him back into his life? The kid was forgiving, but he wasn’t  _ stupid . _

 

“Damn.” He tossed a jalapeño popper into his mouth. “Well, as long as neither of us tell, you’ll retain your heartless reputation.”

 

Loki snorted. He had another drink.

 

“Hey.”

 

The Norse god sighed and turned to look at Hermes.

 

“You’ll make sure it turns out better for them.” It wasn’t a question.

 

Loki knew from all this unfamiliar  _ caring _ that he didn’t have a choice. “I have to.”

  
  


_ *** _

 

Dipper didn’t want to admit it - at least, not in front of Loki - but Hermes’ warning made him  _ extremely _ nervous. If the Norse gods  _ and _ the Greek gods - and, hell, probably the Egyptian ones too - all knew about Norman and all wanted him ‘dealt with’, if beating Norman to a pulp was the way to ‘deal with’ him… 

 

Even if he  _ could _ stay home all the time, Dipper didn’t know how to protect Norman from that. Ghosts, he could handle. Demons were a piece of cake. Monsters and aliens and the government? Dipper had been there, done that. But the wrath of literal gods?

 

Loki insisted on popping in pretty often, and though he claimed it wasn’t for any reason at all, it was pretty obvious he was checking on Norman. As annoying as it was, Dipper stopped trying to fight it.

 

After all, Norman seemed to like having him around, for reasons Dipper couldn’t understand. 

 

“You know,” he grumbled to the god as he sat vigil by the bed, monitoring Norman as he ate some soup, “if you’re gonna insist on showing up here all the time, the least you could do is bring a gift.”

 

“Dipper…” Norman warned quietly.

 

“I do bring a gift,” Loki replied wryly. “My presence is a gift. Right there in the name - presence, presents.”

 

The older man had half a mind to show the god exactly what he thought of his  _ presence _ , but he held back.

 

“Odin’s probably mad, right?” Norman piped in before the situation could escalate, attempting to cut through the thick tension. “That you didn’t… kill me?”

 

Loki shot a pointed look at Dipper. “A lot of people are pretty mad at me. You heard what Hermes said about Zeus. What else is new?”

 

Dipper bit his tongue rather than reply to that, grabbing Norman’s soup bowl and standing up to take it to the sink. Norman looked at him softly.

 

“You don’t have to do that, Dip,” the medium said, starting to rise. “I can-”

 

In an instant, both Dipper and Loki were easing Norman back down into the bed, the god instructing him to “lay back down, kid.”

 

Dipper didn’t quite know what to make of that, but it did allow him to escape to the kitchen.

 

He sighed as he threw the bowl into the sink, turning on the water to rinse it out. The dishes were beginning to pile up. He supposed he would have to do them at some point, but he definitely wasn’t going to do that now. When the front door opened, he didn’t look up, assuming it was just another visiting deity in the apparently-unending parade of unwanted divine guests.

 

Until, that is, he heard an all-too-familiar female voice exclaim, “Hey, Dip, the lock on your door’s  _ completely _ busted!”

 

“ _ M-Mabel _ _?!_ ” He whirled around in shock.

 

Sure enough, Mabel and Pacifica were standing there. In New York.  _ Not _ in San Francisco, not at all.

 

“Surprise!” Mabel broke into a wide grin, running over to embrace her brother. 

 

“What are you doing here? What happened to planning your wedding?!”

 

“You got nominated for a Pulitzer Prize,” Pacifica said coolly, but even she was smiling. “So we checked into the St. Regis for a couple weeks. It’s no big. Pick your jaw up off the floor, Dipshit.”

 

With all the stress of what had happened to Norman, Dipper had nearly forgotten about the nomination. Despite himself, he smiled a little, squeezing his sister around the shoulders. He was glad to see them. He’d missed them more than he’d  _ ever _ say out loud.

 

“And who,” a smarmy voice interrupted the brief happiness, “are  _ these _ lovely ladies? They’re clearly both way out of  _ your _ league.”

 

“Aaand the mood is ruined,” Dipper’s smile fell as he glared over to where Loki had stepped out of the bedroom. 

 

“The kid sent me out to see what all the commotion was,” Loki shrugged less-than-apologetically. 

 

“Who the hell…?” Pacifica raised an eyebrow quizzically.

 

“That’s Loki,” Dipper rolled his eyes. Why couldn’t the god just  _ leave _ already? “These are my sisters, Mabel and Pacifica. Well, sister and future sister-in-law.”

 

“Tomatoe, tomato,” the god grinned. 

 

“Loki?” Mabel asked. “Like the Marvel character?”

 

The grin faltered a little bit. “ _ No _ . Never heard that one before.”

 

“So who  _ is _ he?” Pacifica looked the stranger up and down, unintimidated by his height despite her lack thereof. 

 

“Trickster-culture-hero-god of the north, bringer of fire and chaos, the helpingest of helpers,” Loki responded less-than-helpfully.

 

“Yeah, so, apparently the Norse gods are real,” Dipper deadpanned.

 

“Wait, what?” Mabel blinked.

 

“And  _ apparently _ ,” he continued, “this asshole is the reason Norman can see ghosts and turn into lightning and stuff.”

 

“ _ What? _ ” His sister repeated herself more insistently.

 

“Oh, and  _ also _ , despite betraying Norman’s trust, he keeps showing up here and he won’t fucking leave us alone,” Dipper glared right at the trickster, who bowed a little in response.

 

Suddenly, Mabel lightly smacked the back of her brother’s head.

 

“Mabel!” He yelped more out of surprise than pain. “What the hell-?!”

 

“You never tell us  _ anything _ anymore!” She pouted.

 

Loki cackled. “Ooh, I  _ like _ her!”

 

“Is Norman okay?” Pacifica interjected.

 

The cackling subsided and the god gestured to the bedroom door. “See for yourself.”

 

“Aren’t you coming in?” The blonde asked.

 

“D-don’t invite him in!” Dipper insisted indignantly.

 

“ _ Actually _ _,_ ” Loki said, ignoring Dipper, “I have a rather unfortunate appointment to keep. But don’t you worry. I’ll see you soon.”

 

***

 

_ Asgard, 2025 _

 

Asgard had changed since Loki had last seen it. He hadn’t been here since before the banishment. In the sixties when they had all woken up, they had all convened in New York - there was power in numbers, and big cities were good for staying inconspicuous - but the trickster was suddenly well aware that this was the first time he had been back  _ here _ .

 

He wished, not for the first time, that his return was under better circumstances. 

 

Predictably, Odin’s roar shook the whole great hall:

 

_ “Loki!” _

 

Gold eyes rolled. Of course Odin had to do this in front of everyone. “Little privacy, maybe?”

 

“This conversation concerns everyone,” the one-eyed god responded. “You know what this is about.”

 

“How many times must I tell you that I am taking  _ care _ of it?!”

 

“I am  _ tired _ of making excuses for you to the other pantheons! I am  _ tired _ of sitting idly by while you take the human all over the city!”

 

“Yeah, what are you, courting him?!” One of the others jeered. Loki turned with a glare, but was unable to locate the speaker.

 

“ _ I  _ was assigned this ‘case’, as you all insist on calling it, and I am the one who gets to decide how  _ I _ handle it!”

 

“Then  _ handle _ it, already!” Tyr exclaimed.

 

“You can’t let him keep his powers forever,” Idunn said.

 

“What’s it going to be, Loki?” Bragi added. 

 

Even Heimdall chimed in. “Letting him run around was a mistake, Alfather! I say we assign someone else to take care of the boy, before one of the other pantheons sends someone!”

 

Suddenly, everyone was talking over one another. Loki couldn’t even hear himself think over all the others jeering at his ‘mishandling of the case’ and doubting his plans (which, to be fair, he didn’t  _ actually _ have as many as he claimed) and calling for Odin to come to a decision. It was  chaos _.  _

 

“ _ Wait _ _!_ ” Loki cried out, cutting off everyone present. “Stop screaming. I said I had a plan, and I do. There  _ is _ a way the kid can keep his powers.”

 

“Don’t be a fool,  _ brother _ ,” Odin spat, clearly no brotherly love left in him. “Only a god can keep a power like that. I will  _ not _ be pushed around by the gods of Greece and Egypt when we once had a wider range of power than both of them  _ combined _ !”

 

“Then I’ll deify him!” He blurted out without thinking.

 

Everyone went silent. Loki could feel all of their eyes boring into him.

 

Crap, what had he just said? Well, there was no going back now, he supposed. If nothing else, maybe this would buy him - and Norman - a little more time.

 

“I’ll deify him,” he repeated, trying to sound more sure of himself.

 

“Zeus won’t be happy-”

 

“ _ Screw _ Zeus! Since when have we cared what he thinks? If anything, it’ll just be restoring balance,” Loki spun words like gold threads, trying anything to just buy himself more time with Norman. “He can take Baldr’s seat in Asgard.”

 

“Baldr’s seat will remain empty,” Odin finally released Loki’s collar from his grasp. Frowning, the trickster adjusted the fabric back to the way he liked it. “But… very well. I grant you this one last chance, though you don’t deserve it. I hope you know what you’re doing, Loki.”

 

The trickster’s frown deepened as slowly, everyone went back to their own business.

 

Under his breath, he muttered one word:

 

“ _ Shit _ _._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild Mabel and Pacifica appear!


	11. Tihwaz

If it were up to Dipper, Norman would still be in bed. But the medium could only sit still for so long, despite how hard Dipper tried to get him to rest. 

 

The two were arguing in low voices as Norman did Dipper’s cufflinks - little gold alien heads that Pacifica had gifted him last Christmas. “I want to be there,” Norman was saying. “How could I miss this? This is huge!”

 

“I want you there, too!” Dipper looked at him sympathetically. “But you’re still recovering. And we both know how much public appearances take out of you. Besides, I’m not going to actually win it.”

 

“Yes. You are. And I wanna be there when you do! Look, won’t people go nuts if I don’t come? They’ll start saying either I’m dead or I don’t support you!”

 

“Neither of us care about that! Besides, they’ll go crazy anyway if you show up limping all covered in bruises.”

 

“Pacifica can cover them up…” 

 

But they both knew Norman was losing the argument. Once the cufflinks were in Dipper took his face in his hands and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

 

“I wanna be there for you, Dipper,” the younger man tried again.

 

“I need you to be  _ here _ for me, Norm.”

 

The medium sighed, sitting down on their bed. “Fine. But when you win and I miss it, I’ll never forgive you!”

 

“Yes you will,” Dipper smiled fondly. “You always do.”

 

There was a brief knock on the door before Pacifica poked her head in. “Ready to go, Dip? We have to leave now if we’re gonna beat the traffic.”

 

“Out in a sec, Pacifica.”

 

“Don’t take too long,” she said in a tone that was more teasing than biting. She closed the door.

 

Norman held his hands a little tighter, like he was hesitant to let go. “If you let me come you’ll get to see me in that suit Paz picked out.” It was a last-ditch attempt.

 

“You’ll have to put it on for me later.”

 

Somewhat sadly, Norman pressed a kiss to the palm of his boyfriend’s hand. “Have fun tonight, okay? It’s not every day you win the Pulitzer Prize.”

 

“I’m not gonna win.” Dipper pulled on his suit jacket and Norman did the buttons up. “And even if I do, I’ll have more fun with you.”

 

“I’m serious.”

 

“So am I!” Dipper opened the door, heading out into the living room. 

 

Norman followed him out and addressed Mabel. “You’ll make sure he celebrates, won’t you?”

 

“Are you kidding?” Mabel laughed. “Celebration is my middle name!”

 

“Okay…” Norman pressed another kiss to Dipper’s hand, which made the older man chuckle. Norman was being more affectionate than usual. Then he released Dipper’s hand and pushed him gently towards the girls. “Take him away before I change my mind and follow you guys out there!”

 

His tone was joking, but Dipper sensed the truth in it and let Mabel drag him out the door. “I love you!”

 

“I love you too - Have fun tonight!”

 

The door closed before Dipper could reply.

 

***

 

The ceremonies were dreadfully boring to watch since he wasn’t there, and Norman was getting antsy. He just wanted to see Dipper win. He watched the nominees and guests pick at their expensive-looking five course dinners (Dipper probably hated his), as he made himself a hot dog.

 

He was squirting on the ketchup when he heard the familiar sound of their abused front door swinging open and an uninvited guest sauntering inside.

 

“Kid, we gotta talk.”

 

It was unlike Loki to get right to the point. Norman turned around. “Hello to you too.”

 

“I have good news for you. Great, even!” Loki threw open a few of their cabinets before finding a jar of ghost peppers that had been a joke gift  from Sunny. He popped one in his mouth. “Mm.”

 

“Is it that Odin saw the light and decided to stop wanting me dead?”

 

“Actually,” he popped another pepper, “you're close.” He took a seat on the kitchen table. “I figured it out. I know a way you and your niece can keep your powers and nobody has to die!”

 

Finally. He breathed a sigh that seemed to fall from every bit of him, the relief like a flood of warm water. “You did? So you did change his mind!”

 

“Not exactly. Kid...” Loki set the peppers aside and met Norman’s eyes with a wild look. “Become a god.”

 

The relief was short lived. “What?”

 

“Think about it! Look, kid, you changed the world completely, that’s true. But the pendulum swings! Who’s to say the world won’t change right back? If you stick around, you can guide the human race towards a better future! If you don’t do it, who will?  _ Me? _ ” A loud laugh. Norman all but collapsed into a chair. “Imagine how much more good you could do if you never had to die?!”

 

“Loki-”

 

“My pantheon,” he wasn’t done, “has been stuck in its ways for centuries. You-  _ You _ could be the one who changes that! With so much belief behind you, you’ll be far more powerful than Odin. You could be so good for us. I always say we need to shake things up a bit! You won’t be alone, I’ll show you the ropes.”

 

“Loki, I can’t just-”

 

“I get it! You don’t wanna spend eternity with nobody but me to talk to!” He wasn’t far off. “But you can bring your boyfriend with you! Your family. Anybody you want! And you,  _ you! ” _ He laughed with joy. 

 

Norman rubbed at his tired eyes. “Loki…”

 

“Kid, you won’t be restrained by all these human boundaries, you’ll finally be able to reach your full potential. How much longer are you realistically gonna live? Seventy, Eighty more years? The blink of an eye! But with more time, and more power, you could be- And even if you don’t want that for yourself, fine! But doesn’t your family deserve that? Doesn’t Dipper?”

 

Norman felt his hands tighten into fists. “Don’t-”

 

“No matter what happens. Kid, I swear, I’ll- I’ll be here.” He got the feeling this was the first time Loki had said these words in a long time. “I’ll be here. For you.”

 

Finally, he seemed to be done. Norman had never seen those gold eyes so wide and hopeful. A long silence passed in the matter of just a few seconds. “I can’t.”

 

“Yes, you can!” He seemed manically desperate. “No humans get this chance, only you!”

 

“I  _ can’t . _ ” Norman stood, for the first time looking down to meet Loki’s eyes, as he was still sitting on the table. “I’m a human. That’s... who I am. I can’t be a god.” Loki looked like he was about to start another of his rants. “I don’t want to be a god. I want to be human.”

 

Loki said nothing. He stared at the jar of ghost peppers. He looked… Sad. Norman wanted to reach out to him, say something. It struck him that maybe it wasn’t Norman who was afraid to be alone.

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could his feet were ripped from the floor. 

 

He cried out as the whole world seemed to spin on his head, the colors and shapes of the room twisting and shifting until they were unrecognizable. Different colors and indistinguishable shapes sped past him, and when it made him dizzy, Norman shut his eyes.

 

He stumbled as his feet hit the floor at odd angles, barely keeping himself from falling right to the floor. 

 

The floor.

 

The floor beneath his feet was a brilliant gold mosaic with shimmering tiles. He blinked a few times, but it still looked the same. He lifted his head. Before him, seated in ornate, unique thrones of varying style, were an entire armada of gods. He knew they were gods from the way those eyes bore into him.

 

“What the…?” He spun around to take in the whole room, seeing Loki standing behind him.“Where-?”

 

Loki cut him off. “Asg-”

 

A booming voice didn’t let him finish. “Asgard!”

 

Norman turned back to the panel of gods. The man who had spoke stood from his throne, raising his arms. At the motion, all the gods and all the other more-than-human beings in the room broke into a roar of cheers. Norman jumped a bit at the loud noise. The gold-threaded silken eye patch he donned like armor let Norman know that this was Odin.

 

The same Odin who wanted him dead. 

 

He murmured over his shoulder to Loki. “D-do I bow?”

 

He heard the muttered reply. “Better if you don’t.”

 

Norman was utterly overwhelmed. He tried. “Um… H-hello.” What was the protocol here? “Sir?”

 

He felt more than heard Loki’s exasperated sigh. “Oh boy, here we go.”

 

“Norman Babcock!” The voice marched and vibrated through every inch of the grand hall. “Welcome, o human child, to the realm of the gods! We of the great sagas - sagas you will soon be part of - are proud to welcome you into our realm - above Midgard, above Muspelheim and Niflheim!” Norman was hopeful for a moment that maybe they really would be able to put all of this behind them. “It is my greatest hope our hospitality here will solidify the bonds of brotherhood and you will make yourself at home here. Soon you will have a hall of your own among the likes of Folkvangr and Valhalla itself!”

 

For some reason that didn’t sound quite like simple hospitality. “Um… Thank you, but-”

 

One of the winged women with an amazonian build came down to offer him a horn of golden mead, pushing it towards Norman’s mouth. He politely tried to decline, leaning back a bit. “This is a great honor!” Odin boasted. “Even I, in my most generous moments rarely bestow such an honor upon a human.” He said ‘human’ like it was a dirty word. “But  _ you _ aren’t most humans, are you? And while my son’s seat will remain empty, it is my greatest hope that you will make our pantheon as full as Baldr did. No! Fuller!” A hearty laugh. “If you insist upon bringing your family with you!” Oh no. Norman suddenly realized what was happening. “The gods of the north will welcome you to our pantheon, Norman. We won’t even have to change your name. It already fits so well! Norman - from the north. It’s high time you return to the north.”

 

He couldn’t let this continue. “Actually! Odin, sir, I-” The woman - a Valkyrie, Norman remembered - became more insistent, thrusting the golden mead towards his lips. Norman stumbled back.

 

“We were told,” Odin continued, “you don’t like to take the offensive. So we had the dwarves forge you a shield with leather from the beasts of Alfheim and the metal…” A beat of absolute silence passed through the entire room. “The metal was melted down from Baldr’s sword.” His voice was quieter. Not by much, but enough that it changed the tone of the entire room, if only for a sentence. Then he returned to normal. “Valkyries! Bring out the Hvítrskjöld!” 

 

Four of the women flew down, kneeling before Norman to offer the shield to him. The metal was as white-gold as the sun, shimmering brilliantly. He heard Loki murmur, “Kid, we’re in some deep shit here.”

 

The Valkyrie with the golden mead was getting frustrated and tried once again to pour it down Norman’s throat.

 

Odin boomed once more. “Accept the shining shield and take your rightful place upon your pantheon!”

 

Norman stubbornly pushed the mead away from his face. The Valkyrie lost her grip on the horn and it fell to the floor, the mead spilling out. The entire hall gasped and stared directly into Norman’s soul. He froze up.

 

“Um… I…” He glanced at Loki, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, before turning back to Odin. “Thank you. For the offer, but I…” He prayed they wouldn't kill him for this. “I’d rather stay human… Sir.”

 

Odin paused for a very long time, and one by one every face in the room turned to see what the god would do. “I… see.”

 

“Son of a bitch,” Loki muttered.

 

“I just…” Norman’s face heated up under the weight of all those eyes. “I’m a human, it’s- I- I can’t be a god! You- You guys can understand that, can’t you?” Of course, they couldn’t. Norman groaned at his own stupidity. “Wait, I mean- I mean… I… Um.”

 

He felt tiny under Odin’s scrutinizing gaze.

 

“I was told you were to be deified,” the one-eyed god’s voice was no longer jovial. Now he sounded more like a military general at war. “You would refuse a gift from the gods?” The glittering shield still sat below him, in it the only reminder of Odin’s son. Norman felt sick. “That is very… unwise. I would advise you to reconsider.” He didn’t say Norman’s alternative was death.

 

He didn’t have to.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Norman felt himself shrinking under the gaze. “I don’t mean to be rude. I just… Don’t want to be deified.”

 

Odin was gruff, terrifying in his composure. “Are you aware of what your alternative is?”

 

Footsteps approached behind him, and he felt Loki’s hand on his shoulder, almost calmingly. He took a breath. “Kid, come on.” But what could Norman say?! “Don’t be stupid.”

 

He turned back to the god - his only friend in the room. “Not helping,” Norman whispered back.

 

“You have godly powers!” Odin was losing his patience. “Only a god can handle such power. If you choose humanity - if you turn your back on our gifts - then you choose to give those powers up for good! Is that your choice?!”

 

“No!” Norman tried to stand up for himself. “For myself, maybe. But I won’t give them up for Christy Agatha.” The other gods began to murmur. He heard one of them say the word ‘execution.’ He shivered. “If my death is what it takes to preserve her powers, then-” The room fell silent once more. “Then I guess you’ll just have to kill me!”

 

It seemed like an eternity before Odin spoke. And then.... 

 

“So be it.”

 

The god raised one hand and, before Norman could react, snapped his fingers, stealing the air from his lungs. 

 

Norman’s eyes went wide and he clutched at his chest, scratching at his throat to no avail. It was the worst kind of suffocation, the knowledge that the air was so close, on his tongue, but he couldn’t take it in. His knees gave out. Somebody caught him. They felt warm. One of Norman’s hands found the shirt Loki was wearing and held a part of it, as if trying to hold onto life.

 

“Kid!” He saw Loki’s face, horrified, terrified above him. “Kid, breathe! Damn it, Norman,  _ breathe! _ ” 

 

But he couldn’t. 

 

His blue eyes seemed to be screaming in terror, begging for air, begging for Loki to do something. Anything. 

 

And for only the second time in his long life, the trickster god felt completely and utterly powerless.

 

The god looked up at his brother. “How could you do this?!” Loki screamed and it was a raw sound, full of so much pain. He didn’t want to lose another- He didn’t want to- “Is this the level our pantheon has sunk to?!” The human sagged in his arms. “Norman!”

 

Loki lowered him gently to the golden ground, watched as he faded away. He knew Norman couldn’t hear him anymore. 

 

Those blue eyes closed and he lost it. 

 

“He was innocent!  _ Damn you _ ! Norman was  _ i nnocent _ _!_ No… More than that, he saved the universe - the one we  _ all _ live in - when you were all sitting on your asses, twiddling your thumbs! War deities my lily-white  _ ass _ !” 

 

He couldn’t look at Norman’s lifeless face anymore. The gods before him looked stunned. This had to be the most emotion they’d seen out of him in centuries, but Loki didn’t care. 

 

“And what’s his reward? Death!? Fuck you!” He felt Sigyn approach but he wasn’t done. “Fuck you! Fuck all of you for standing idly by! Is this what our pantheon has become?! Murderers!” He looked directly at Odin. “And  _ cowards _ _!_ ” His eyes blazed as he eyed each of his former friends with enough hate to set empires aflame. “He was better than what any one of you has become! 

 

“You all think I’m the bad guy, but the body count of  _ innocent children _ is stacking up, and what you’ve done-! What you’ve done-!” The room was still quiet except for Loki’s rant. “ _ I’ll never forgive you! _ ” He snarled. 

 

He felt angry fire begging to escape his hands, but he couldn’t let them burn up the corpse in his hands.

 

Norman’s body was going cold now Loki refused to let his hands tremble. “Aw, kid… I’m so sorry.”

 

***

 

“Norman?! Guess what?! I won!” Dipper called out as he came in through the door, after dropping the girls off at their way-too-fancy-for-his-tastes hotel. He knew he didn't  _ need _ to escort them, that they'd visited New York more than enough times to be able to find their way around, but it had been more for his sake than theirs. He peeled his coat off his shoulders with a slight shiver. It didn’t matter how many years he’d been here. He didn’t think he’d  _ ever _ get used to how windy New York’s Octobers were.

 

The apartment was oddly quiet. Dipper set down the award on the counter and rubbed his wind-chilled hands together as he walked into the living room. No Norman.

 

“Are you home?!” He tried again, but there was still no answer.

 

Maybe Norman had gone out with Loki  _ again _ . Dipper was really beginning to get sick of Loki taking up all of Norman’s time, even after their big fight. Norman shouldn’t have even been be out and about right now, he was still recovering.

 

Except he knew he wasn’t really being fair. Norman had told him to have fun tonight. His boyfriend probably had assumed he’d be going to the afterparty.

 

Deflating a little, Dipper sat down on the couch to wait for him to come home. He hoped it would be soon.

 

He hoped Norman was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this were a movie, that last scene would have been intercut with Dipper at the awards ceremony as Norman fell to the floor, with soaring instrumentals to tie the quick cuts together. Can't really do that with prose.
> 
> Also holy shit, how are they gonna get out of this one?


	12. Berkanan

_ The New World, 1620 _

 

Mary had become pregnant on the ship ride over. Her daughter was not the first baby born in the New World, but she was one of them. Her husband had been hoping for another “strapping young boy”, but Mary was relieved to have a girl.

 

“A boy would have had more pressure put upon him by the colony,” she whispered to her daughter in the birthing bed, “but you’ll just be mine. No pressure to protect churchgoers or pay taxes or be an example for the community. Yet you are loved no less.”

 

“You’ll spoil her like you do John,” her husband said, bemused.

 

“Look at her perfect little face. How could I not spoil her?”

 

After all, her children were all she had left to love, with Sol’s spirit back in Holland.

 

Mary named her daughter Angelica, a name she and Sol had once talked about naming  _ their _ future child. Angelica, much to her relief, had normal eyes. This ability had skipped her. That’s just how Mary wanted it - it was easier for boys like John Junior to ‘act odd’ than it was for girls. Boys, people would say, were  _ eccentric _ when they did things that would get girls labeled as witches.

 

“It’s a  _ Catholic _ name,” others had sneered at Angelica’s baptism. “Goodman Prenderghast never should have let his odd little wife name the child - it’ll grow up sinful with a name like that!”

 

She didn’t care what they thought. She knew the name meant ‘little angel’, and that’s what her darling sweet daughter was to her. Every time the baby laughed, it lit up their dark little home like a gift from the angels themselves - even if Mary had long ago stopped believing in angels. No one could be unhappy long when baby Angelica laughed. 

 

“She laughs too much,” others sneered. “Too much happiness will set that child on a path straight towards Hell.”

 

Mary laughed, too, behind their backs. Their closed minds didn’t know what would really happen to them after death. No Hell would ever await her Angelica other than the hell of living in this strange New World.

 

The colonists’ first harvest was not as big of a success as they had hoped. The Prenderghast family had barely enough to get by. But Mary didn’t mind. Her beloved children were happy and healthy. What more could she ask for?

 

It was on a nondescript autumn night that she got an answer to that question. Mary was in the kitchen kneading dough to make bread when the baby started to get fussy. Her husband wasn’t home yet, and her son was napping upstairs, so she had no choice but to set the dough aside and lift the baby into her arms.

 

“Shhh,” she cooed as she cradled Angelica and walked to the next room where the fire was lit to warm the house, “Mommy has you, my love.”

 

“One would hope you had her. Who else would, the Ottoman Sultan?”

 

Mary gasped at the second voice and looked up, surprised at who she saw sitting before her fire.

 

“L-Loki?” She couldn’t believe her eyes. She hadn’t seen him in  _ months _ , not since Holland! “What are you doing here? I thought you were in the Old World!”

 

“What’s the little one’s name?” Instead of answering, the god gestured at the baby. Mary figured she should have expected as much.

 

“Angelica,” she answered. “Would you like to hold her?” 

 

When Loki nodded, she placed the child gently in his hands. Angelica, for her part, seemed fascinated as she gazed up at him. When John had been an infant, Loki had changed his face into other faces, grotesque ones, in order to make him laugh. He didn’t do that for Angelica. In fact…

 

“You don’t look well, Loki,” Mary sat across from him, biting her lip. 

 

He paused, still smiling down at the infant in his arms. There was no mischievous glint in his eyes. He looked tired, his skin slightly sallow. He didn’t make a joke. He just said, “I’m not.”

 

She didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t used to Loki being honest with her.

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“Because of you, kid,” he sighed, looking up at her now. “Truth is, I’m far weaker than I used to be. No one in Europe is worshipping my pantheon anymore, and even if they were, I’ve been banished from receiving any of that belief, anyway. Gods need belief to survive the same way you humans need food.”

 

“So you followed me here?” Her eyebrows knit together. “Because I…”

 

“You’re one of the last of my believers,” he said frankly. Then, he snorted. “Ironic, considering how we met.”

 

“Of course I believe in you,” she replied, though she was only just realising it as she spoke it. “You’re the only god I’ve ever met, and the only one who responded to any of my wishes, even if the way you did so wasn’t what I’d expected.”

 

“Probably because I hated you back then.”

 

Now it was her turn to snort. “You clearly don’t hate me now.”

 

“No. You grew on me. Like a  _ fungus _ .”

 

“Is that any way to talk to one of your believers? By comparing them to something as lowly as fungus?”

 

“In some parts of the world, fungi are delicacies,” he tried to smirk at her, but it fell almost right away. His heart just wasn’t in it.

 

“Do you need a bed to rest in?” She frowned. “Loki, you really don’t look well, and I’m afraid I don’t know how to help you.”

 

“There is no help for me,” he said. “I’m dying, Mary.”

 

Dying. He, a god, was  _ dying _ . 

 

Mary rose from her chair, walked over to him, and put her arms around his shoulders. He stiffened at first, but then relaxed into the embrace, letting her do this. 

 

After all, it was the only comfort she had to offer.

 

***

 

_????? _

 

Freezing air filled Norman’s lungs, at least that’s what it felt like, and he sprung up, hands flying to his chest. He couldn’t feel his heart pounding, but he was sure it was. His eyes flicked around. There was snow everywhere and he felt it, seeping into his bones. Snow was all he could see in all directions. 

 

“H-Hello?!”

 

There was no answer. The wind roared in his ears. He thought he was dead, but… 

 

He turned around, expecting more snow, and saw a tall woman with long black skirts, even darker long hair, and deathly pale skin. Her hands were behind her back. He jumped back with a startled cry. Then he saw her eyes. Golden and shimmering. 

 

“Y-you’re a god!”

 

“You’re a human.” Her voice was collected and calm, and as cold as the snow pelting Norman’s face. “Are we through stating the obvious?”

 

Norman was staring. A little. “L-look, I…” He touched his head, then his chest. “Shit, I thought for sure that guy was going to kill me…” Loki must’ve done something to save him. That didn’t explain why Norman was  _ here _ . And where was he, anyway?

 

“He did.”

 

That did not make sense. “What?”

 

“If you’re here, he did kill you. This is the realm of the dead.” Norman felt himself freeze up - no pun intended - because that couldn’t be possible. “Let me lead you inside. What’s your name?”

 

“Wh-what? No. What?” Norman shook himself. “No. I am not dead, I can’t be dead.”

 

She gave him a look. Something was familiar about her.

 

“If I were dead, I’d be up there, I’d be a ghost, I have-” He felt mildly frantic. “I have unfinished business!”

 

The shake of her head was sympathetic, but her voice was impassive. “You were killed by a god, weren’t you?” He could tell it wasn’t a question, but nodded anyway. “So you ended up here. In Niflheim.”

 

One of those ‘heims that the Norse gods had... Sure enough, Norman soon remembered it was the realm of the dead. He tried to ignore the lump in his throat, turning away from her outstretched hand. 

 

“So…” His eyes stung. “So I-I’m dead then?”

 

“Yes.” He didn’t look up at her when she replied, “you’re dead.”

 

A god would know, he supposed. His whole chest - unbeating heart and all - clenched painfully. There was a time Norman would have accepted that. But now? It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair.

 

What would happen to Christy? He knew she wasn’t ready to face the world and her powers. Not at twenty-seven months. The thought of her, scared and alone, asking where he’d gone, broke his heart.

 

And what about the girls? They didn’t need him, but who would Pacifica call late at night when Mabel was sleeping? And Mabel’s Mystery Quartet, would it go back to being a trio? He didn’t want to think about either of them crying over him.

 

And  _ Dipper . _ He thought about Dipper, finding his suffocated body. He still remembered Dipper’s face as he held Norman’s corpse at sixteen. Norman hated the thought of those kind brown eyes filling with tears, the agonizing cry in that voice that made Norman feel so  _ safe _ . 

 

Instead of breaking down, he turned away from the woman in black and screamed all his agony into the blizzard.

 

“ _ Fuck! ”  _ He’d almost never let himself get angry. He figured then was as good a time as any. “Damn it!”

 

“No need for that,” her voice was as cool as ever, unfazed. “But if you want to scream, do it out here.” Norman ran his fingers into his hair. “It won’t change anything.”

 

It felt like an icicle to his cold chest. She was right, nothing he could do would change anything. His voice broke. “I’m sorry, Dipper… I’m  _ sorry , _ Christy! I’m sorry, everyone, I’m so sorry…” He came to a realization. “Damn it, that asshole was right!” He turned back to the god. “I  _ am _ a pushover! I’m a  _ stupid _ ,” he kicked at some snow, “ _ fucking _ pushover!”

 

“Is ‘that asshole’ the god who killed you?” She didn’t seem to care all that much.

 

“No, that asshole was the god who tried to save me…” He felt the tears on his cheek harden into ice. “I let that guy on the train step on my foot, and then I let Odin kill me.” He turned back to her. “I’m Norman, by the way. Norman… the dead pushover.” He sighed, the anger dissipating fast. “I-I don’t usually get so angry, but I figure if there was ever a time to finally let it out…” He spread his arms as if to indicate the situation.

 

“It would be now?” She finished the thought with a raised eyebrow, looking just exactly like… “Odin killed you? The old bastard. At the very least, you’ll never have to see him again. He doesn’t come down here. Nobody does.” Who did she look like? “I’m Hel, by the way.” She turned to walk away, her long robes and hair blowing this way and that.

 

“Hel…” He followed her. Suddenly it struck him. “I read about you! Aren’t you-?”  _ That’s _ who she reminded him of. “Aren’t you Loki’s daughter?” For a split second he was thrilled to have some kind of connection down here. Then her feet stuttered mid-step.

 

“If you read about me,” her voice was even colder than before, “then you already know the answer.”

 

She  _ was _ Loki’s daughter. Loki’s daughter he had abandoned to live her life out in the underworld. Shit. “S-sorry, I… I didn’t mean to be insensitive, it’s just- Your dad, he’s been…” Been what? A friend? He wasn’t sure. “I know him. A little. He tried to save me! By… beating me up.” He cringed.

 

“And yet he abandoned you like he does everyone else. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself, you know. But that doesn’t matter anymore.” They came to a large hall in the middle of this barren land of ice. “We’re here.”

 

Hel threw open the door. It was so massive that Norman couldn’t even see the other end of the long, single room. There were a few other spirits, but almost all of them were dressed in ancient viking-looking garb and speaking a language that was probably Norse. Not that Norman knew any Norse.

 

He felt alone already.

 

He watched her toss her long hair back from her face and for the first time got a glance at her arms. They were mostly encased in the black dress she was wearing, but the part that wasn’t was… dead. The flesh was rotting, so badly that in some places he could see the bone - which was discolored with decomposition. He averted his eyes politely and pointedly said nothing about it.

 

“I-I guess the gods haven’t killed anybody in a while?”

 

“They rarely do. What did you do to piss off Odin?” She was blunt with the question.

 

“I was born.” Norman looked around, but nobody here looked to be from his time. “Then I saved the planet.”

 

“You’re not telling me everything.” She shrugged, leading him deeper into the hall. 

 

“Didn’t know you wanted the long version.”

 

She looked at him with those gold eyes, but they didn’t glint like Loki’s. They looked far more resigned, as if nothing at all mattered. “Doesn’t matter. You’ll be here a long time. I’ll find out eventually, it might as well be now.”

 

He looked at the high ceiling. “I was born with the power to see ghosts, among... other things. And apparently it was because your dad decided to mess with one of my ancestors and somehow that stuff was genetic.” He rubbed at his face, trying to get the ice off. “I already forgave him for that, though.” He looked down at his dead hands.

 

“That was your first mistake.” He looked at her and something in her face softened. From somewhere - Norman didn’t know where - she pulled out a tissue, offering it to him. “You left behind a family?”

 

“Yes…” Norman took the tissue in a cold, dead hand. “My boyfriend.” That didn’t sound right. “My soulmate. And my niece. And…” He watched that dead hand clench around the tissue. “Everyone I love. My  _ family _ .” 

 

“It’s hard for everyone at first,” her speech sounded practiced but sincere. “You’ll get used to it.”

 

“I don’t  _ want _ to get used to it! I want to go back.” His vision blurred with tears again. “But I suppose that doesn’t matter either, does it?” He felt hopeless parroting Hel’s own words back to her.

 

“You’re dead. I can’t change that.” She examined him. “The best I can do is try to arrange a transfer to another afterlife once your soulmate dies. Until then... I’m sorry.” She must’ve seen how broken he felt. “But it’s not all bad. The snow is quite pretty when the winds calm.”

 

Norman felt his head shaking slowly back and forth before he even initiated the movement. He heard himself speak before even thinking the words. “You’re wrong.” There was nothing mean in his voice, it was just a fact.

 

“I’m  _ wrong ? _ ” She said it like it was a foreign word, but didn’t seem offended.

 

“Dipper won’t give up that easily.” He could see the determination growing in Dipper’s eyes. Norman trusted him unconditionally. “He’ll find a way to bring me back.” Norman could only hope nobody else got hurt in the process. “Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time I’ve died.”

 

“He’ll have to find his way here before your body begins to decay,” she spoke as if she were just stating facts. “It’s unlikely.”

 

“He will find a way!” A smile grew on Norman’s face for the first time. “You probably think I’m just in denial,” the lift of her eyebrow confirmed that suspicion, “but Dipper is… He’s just something else.” Norman was sure he looked lovesick but he didn’t care.

 

Hel looked as cool as ever, but her eyes were just a little brighter. “...I wish him luck.” She seemed sincere. “It’s still highly unlikely.” There was that pessimism Norman was already getting familiar with.

 

“Unlikely, yes!” Norman startled again as another voice entered the conversation. When Norman turned he saw a tall man(?) with blonde hair. “But not impossible, Hel.” The warmth of his voice was reassuring.

 

“Someone else knows English!” Norman waved somewhat awkwardly as the blonde approached. “Hi…”

 

“It’s Baldr.” His smile was just as warm as his voice. “My wife is ever the pessimist, isn’t she?” He wrapped an arm around her, and she seemed to defrost a little.

 

Then Hel actually smiled. Well, almost. “I’m a realist, love.”

 

Baldr came over and patted Norman’s shoulder. “If I could find a way to be with Hel, then your love will find a way to be with you. Love makes this possible. I’ve always believed that.”

 

Hel rolled her eyes. “You’re a sap.” 

 

Baldr ignored her. “And until he does, we will do whatever we can to make you feel welcome as a guest in our home.”

 

“I wouldn’t get his hopes up.”

 

Baldr’s optimism was refreshing. “Thank you, Baldr. I’m Norman, by the way, Norman Babcock.”

 

“Norman Babcock!” His smile was unsinkable. His laugh was infectious. “I’ve never heard ‘Norman’ used as a name before. Incredible! Midgard must’ve changed so much since I was last able to visit…”

 

Suddenly memories of all that research Norman did came back to him. “Oh, you’re  _ Baldr! _ ” Baldr, the son of Odin. The one who Loki killed with mistletoe. So much began to make sense. Loki killed Baldr so Baldr and Hel could be together. He meant to say something about that, but all that came out was “Your dad killed me.”

 

Norman immediately regretted it when Baldr’s smile faltered. “My father is… shortsighted. He focuses on the big picture, and sometimes this means he has trouble understanding what individuals might want or need.” He still seemed to love his parents. “I am sorry,” he met Norman’s eyes. “In time, I hope you might forgive him. I understand if you can’t, though.”

 

“I-I’m sure I will once I’m alive again.”

 

Baldr nodded, relieved. Norman looked between him and Hel and took a breath.

 

“I am dead and hanging out with the children of the two gods who led to my death. I hope you two don’t take offense to this, but this entire situation is so very…” He heard Courtney’s voice in his head. “Norman.”

 

Baldr looked obviously confused, and Hel was enigmatically amused. “We are nothing like our parents,” Hel seemed to be trying to comfort him. “I can assure you of that much, at least.”

 

“Well, thank you. Both of you. For, uh… Taking me in.” Norman examined the giant hall once more.

 

Hel just nodded. “You’re welcome. Make yourself at home. Well, as at home as possible…” Norman offered her a weak smile. “Given the circumstances.”

 

***

 

_ New York City, 2025 _

 

“The person you have dialed cannot get to the phone right now,” the computerized female voice said. “At the tone, please leave a message. When you have finished-”

 

Dipper hung up before the recording could finish. He’d left three messages already, each one increasingly worried. At first he had wondered if perhaps Norman was on the subway, but after three hours there was no way. There was just no way.

 

So where  _ was _ he?

 

There was only one thing he could do. He texted his sister. She hadn’t heard from him either.

 

He retrieved the business card from where Norman had deposited it in the drawer on their nightstand. Huginn and Muninn Law Firm was on Wall Street. He could get there in less than half an hour if there were no train delays.

 

If Loki knew where Norman was, Dipper was  going to find out.

 

He got there in thirty-six minutes. (Damn MTA. Damn tourists.) 40 Wall Street loomed ahead of him, cold and unfeeling. Just then, his phone buzzed. Dipper fished it out of his pocket. It was Mabel.

 

“I still haven’t found him,” he answered, running a hand through the front of his hair. “I’m following a lead right now.”

 

“What lead?” She sounded just as distressed as he felt. “Dip, where are you?”

 

“Wall Street.”

 

“What are you doing all the way downtown? What kind of lead-?!”

 

“It’s where all these gods hang out,” he answered, though he didn’t know if that was correct. God, how much didn’t he know?! “Mabel, I have to try. I have to find him…”

 

“Okay,” Mabel seemed to be trying to conceal her stress under a sigh. “Calm down. Find a café and wait for me and Pacifica. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

 

“No time to wait. He shouldn’t even be out in his state. I have to find him now.”

 

“Dipper Pines, don’t you dare hang up on me-”

 

He hung up and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

 

***

 

Uptown, Mabel stared at her phone in disbelief. “He hung up on me! That little fart!”

 

“Yeah, yeah, he’s the worst and all that,” Pacifica was shoving her feet into an old pair of Ugg boots, having already removed her heels and make-up from the night’s festivities. She clearly hadn’t expected to be going back out tonight. “Doesn’t matter. I already called an Uber.”

 

The brunette woman pulled her curls back into a ponytail and leaned in to kiss her fiancée’s bare face.

 

“You’re the best, Paz.”

 

Pacifica didn’t look convinced. “Do you think his ‘lead’ will pan out?”

 

Mabel had known and loved Pacifica long enough to recognize that tone. Though her girlfriend was trying to hide her worry, the question she was  _ really _ asking was ‘will we find Norman?’

 

“We’ll find him,” she answered the real question as they left their hotel room.

 

But god, would they find him alive?

 

***

 

_ Niflheim  _

 

Hel wasn’t surprised to catch the new human’s blue eyes glancing not-so-subtly at her arms. She found it almost funny. Did he think he was the first to notice? Many before him had stared far less politely. Hel was used to it.

 

The next time his eyes flitted over she caught his gaze with a lift of her eyebrow, letting him know that she caught him trying not to look.

 

“Norman.” He jumped, looking embarrassed. Most were jumpy their first few days. “It’s okay,” she rolled back her sleeves to let him see the desiccated flesh beneath. “You can stare. Everyone down here does when they’re new.”

 

She watched him glance between her arms and her face. “S-sorry, I just…” He offered her a smile. “I  _ really _ like dead things.”

 

That was not the reply she expected. Nobody had ever smiled at her, let alone said something like that. She held out her hand for him to examine, intrigued. “Do you? That’s… Unusual for a human, isn’t it?”

 

“I’ve seen them since I was a kid; I was bound to get attached.” Norman leaned closer to inspect the dead flesh. “Wow…” She’d never seen so much wonder in human eyes before.

 

“‘Wow?’ That’s a new one.” She felt the corners of her mouth lift into a small smile. “My legs look the same way. Like a mummy. Or a draugr.”

 

He looked bashful. “I-I won’t ask you to show me those. I don’t know what kind of modesty customs you have down here.”

 

Hel didn’t care about modesty. She lifted her skirts to show him her equally-decaying calves. “You’re the first human I’ve met who seems interested in them instead of… You know.” Norman knelt to examine her legs. “Even Baldr had trouble with them at first, though he’ll never admit that if you ask him. I used to wear gloves.”

 

“Why? They’re so cool!”

 

Her head tilted in confusion. “Everything down here is quite cold.”

 

Norman looked up at her with equal confusion, before nodding in understanding. “Sorry. On Midgard ‘cool’ is slang for something that’s awesome.”

 

She paused. Awesome? This was a strange human. “...Thank you. I’m not used to getting compliments for them.” Norman stood to look at her hands again. “I used to always cover them up when they first started to die.”

 

“You had to watch them start to…?” There was immense sympathy in those blue eyes, such second-hand hurt.

 

“Did you think I was born like this?”

 

The boy shrugged. “That must’ve been hard, though.”

 

Careful to show no emotion, Hel just looked at him “I know better than to mourn what I cannot control. I was an outcast before they decayed, and I will continue to be one no matter what they look like.” She hadn’t realized that she was the one looking at her arms now. Norman was looking at her face.

 

“I don’t pretend to know what that must’ve felt like… You didn’t deserve it.”

 

“How do you know what I didn’t deserve? You’ve only just met me.” She didn’t mean to sound rude, but it didn’t matter much if she did.

 

“I read about you.”

 

She lifted an eyebrow. “What could books of the living know of the dead?”

 

“That… That you were banished because your dad wasn’t supposed to sleep with your mom, the Jotun? So you didn’t do anything to deserve it.”

 

“Banished isn’t technically correct.” What she went through was a lot worse than banishment. “It… It doesn’t matter anymore.” She hoped the hesitation didn't encourage him to pry.

 

“Either way, Hel, I’m sorry it happened.”

 

“Sorry? Why are you sorry? You’re not the one who threw me to another world for being an ‘abomination.’” Maybe she had been harboring some aggression towards Odin. “And you’re not the  _ father _ who stood idly by and didn’t attempt to stop it even once.” It took her a moment to regain her calm. “You are not the one who owes me an apology.”

 

He was thinking about her father, she could tell. They must’ve been fairly close, she’s deduced. Maybe even friends from how Norman spoke of him. And yet Loki seemed to have abandoned Norman here, just like he did her.

 

“People do change after a few thousand years,” Norman was saying. “I mean, didn’t Loki send Baldr here so you could be together?”

 

“And yet, he’s made no attempt to visit us. Not one, except for when he tried to take Baldr back. And he hasn’t come for you, either. Face it, he’s selfish. He cares for no one.” She saw that Norman didn’t believe her. “The sooner you understand that, the better off you’ll be in the long run.”

 

“Maybe he never visits because he knows you don’t want him to.”

 

“I  _ don’t _ want him to.”

 

“Then why are you upset with him for not visiting?”

 

“I’m not,” She saturated her voice will ice to hide the lie. Then her expression softened. “I am only sorry your life got so ruined because of him.”

 

Shaking his head, Norman ran a hand through his hair. “He didn’t. I mean, it wasn’t his fault.”

 

“It doesn’t concern me if you choose to believe that. The fact is that if he hadn’t given you godly powers, you’d still be alive with your Dipper right now.” She let some softness enter her eyes as she met his. “And I would never have met you, a strange ex-human who seems to like my horrible arms.”

 

“They’re not horrible. They’re amazing.” Norman looked away, deep in thought for a moment, as if piecing words together. “If your dad hadn’t given me these powers, I might have not even known my Dipper. I definitely wouldn’t be the person I am. The person he loves.” He met her eyes again. “For as long as it took me to get there, I like who I am. In a way I should be thanking him. Everything I went through with those powers just made me a stronger person. I don’t know who I’d be without them. I know you don’t like him, but maybe he really has changed!”

 

Hel gave him a long, measured look, keeping all emotion out of her eyes. She sighed. “You’re stubborn, aren’t you?”

 

“It’s the truth, Hel.”

 

“I know. You have honesty in your eyes. And it’s good that you like who you are. I’ll grant you that.”

 

“I feel a ‘but’ coming on.”

 

“That still says a lot more about you than anybody else.”

 

Norman looked at her with those blue eyes. Why was this human making her evaluate her decisions? It was eery. 

 

“Do… Do you think you’d give your dad a chance if he apologized?”

 

If Hel had been one to laugh, she would have. “He won’t apologize. He has no heart.”

 

Norman replied with the utmost certainty. “That’s not true.”

 

“You believe what you want. As I’ve said, it no longer matters what you believe.” Seeing the look in his eyes, she immediately regretted saying that. Norman dipped his head and she tried to think of something to say that would let her backtrack. Being dead was hard enough without careless comments. Contrary to popular belief, she wasn’t heartless.

 

He spoke before she could think of anything to say, sitting against the wall of the hall. “Maybe there isn’t anything I can say that won’t make you frown or make some negative comment, but… I choose to try and see the good in people, even the ones who hurt me.”

 

“Even Odin?” She said it without thinking, going to sit in front of him.

 

“I’m sure Odin has his reasons. It can’t be easy, what he does.”

 

“Reasons for being an old fool and a hypocrite and now a murderer? Maybe they’re not very good reasons. You think there’s good in even him?” Norman nodded. Hel was flabbergasted. “Why do you insist on believing that about people - about gods - who are  _ murderers?! _ Odin did murder you, did he not?”

 

“He did.” Those blue eyes trailed along the floor, as if Norman was finding the words in the cracks of the wood beneath them. “I don’t know. Maybe because if I don’t believe it the world becomes a pretty sad place. Or maybe because…” He seemed to be realizing it as he spoke. “Just my believing it can sometimes make it true. If you talk to a person expecting them to be horrible and rotten, then that’s all they’ll be to you, no matter what. But if you step into a person’s life truly believing that there’s something - no matter how small,  _ something _ \- really beautiful inside of them, then…” He looked at her. “Then you’ll find it. Something beautiful.”

 

Hel was at a loss for words. She had never met a human like this in all her life. “There are beautiful things here. The ice and snow. My husband and his songs. But… Perhaps there is some merit to your philosophy as well.” She felt a bitterness in her heart grow, mourning for the human who sat before her. It wasn’t fair that the good died while so many wicked continued to live. “Though it doesn’t do you much good anymore.”

 

Norman’s entire face fell, looking as if his chest had been gouged out. She could see how alone he felt, despite her company. “No, I guess it doesn’t.” He pulled his knees to his chest. “Never mind.”

 

A pause. Slowly, she reached over and placed a dead hand against his knee, mustering the tiniest smile. “You know… If, by some very  _ very _ small chance, I am ‘wrong’...” He looked up at her. “Then I look forward to meeting your Dipper.”

 

She saw him realize she just admitted she might just be wrong. She saw the shred of hope return to his eyes. He spoke softly.

 

“Thank you.”

 

***

 

_New York City, 2025_

 

Dipper stormed into the building, only to find the lobby strangely deserted. There was a front desk, but no receptionist behind it to buzz him up. 

 

“What-?”

 

“You came,” a voice sounded behind him. 

 

Dipper jumped about a foot in the air before turning around to face him.

 

“Loki,” he frowned. He didn’t trust the auburn-haired trickster for even an instant. “Where is he?”

 

“Where is who? A good deal of my pantheon uses ‘he’ pronouns; you’re going to have to be a lot more specific.”

 

“Cut the shit. You know who I’m talking about!” He balled his hands into fists.

 

Gold eyes stared at the fists. “What, are you going to punch me again?”

 

“ _ Where _ is  _ Norman _ ?!”

 

There was a pause. Something in Loki’s face seemed to change. His shoulders seemed to droop just a tiny bit, if Dipper wasn’t imagining it.

 

“I was afraid that’s what you were here for… his body is upstairs.”

 

Dipper wasn’t stupid. He caught the implication. It felt as if his heart stopped.

 

“Wh-what do you mean ‘his body’?” His blood ran cold. Loki couldn’t possibly mean… could he? “What did you  _ do _ ?!”

 

For once, though, there was no joke. Loki just turned and walked towards the elevator.

 

“Come with me, kid.”

 

What choice did Dipper have? 

 

They took the elevator up in silence. Something wasn’t right. Dipper was getting antsier by the second, the words spinning around in his head.  _ ‘His body is upstairs.’  _ It couldn’t be true.  _ ‘His body.’ _ He felt dizzy. He leaned back against the cool metal wall of the elevator.

 

“We’re here,” Loki announced as it stopped on the fourteenth floor.

 

The hallway was deceptively  _ normal _ . Dipper didn’t like it, the sheer normal-ness of this damn hallway seemingly a cruel mockery of how strange and unusual this whole damn situation was.

 

He was tired of strange and unusual. How long had they been doing strange and unusual? Hadn’t he and Norman made it their whole lives? Had they even had a choice in that, between ghosts and Bill Cipher and the FBI and aliens and the media and goddamned ancient deities? He was so  _ tired _ . 

 

Loki looked at him with something akin to pity as they reached a plain beige door.

 

“For the record - and I never say this,” the god spoke. “But… for the record? I  _ am _ sorry.”

 

Dipper turned to him with shock. It was the first glimpse of humanity he’d seen in the god. But he didn’t have time to reflect on it. For when that door was cast open, that shock exploded until Dipper’s entire world was shattered into tiny little pieces.

 

There, in the center of the room, in a glass coffin, lay his Norman.

 

***

 

_ Asgard, 1220 _

 

The stories said Odin and Frigga’s golden-haired son Baldr was beloved by all living things. When he was born, Frigga had, in an effort to protect her most beloved son, made every living thing in all the realms swear never to harm him. But she had forgotten to ask the tiny plant growing on the mighty oak tree. She had forgotten to ask the mistletoe.

 

Loki, jealous of all the attention Baldr got, and feeling that Frigga and Odin were a bit  _ too _ overprotective of their son, had taken it upon himself to create a wand of mistletoe. When all the other gods threw things at Baldr in a good-natured game (Baldr couldn’t feel pain, so they all found this hilarious), he had guided the hand of the blind god Hodr - Baldr’s brother - and caused brother to slay brother when the mistletoe pierced Baldr’s heart.

 

Baldr died and went to Helheim. And for his transgressions, Loki was punished and banished.

 

That was what the stories said.

 

But history had been written by the victors, and the stories left out something  _ very _ important.

 

A week before his death, Baldr had come to Loki’s home in disguise. Sigyn, Loki’s wife, had greeted him warmly and served him fresh baked bread and mead. 

 

“You’re no shapeshifter, kid,” Loki was amused when the young god appeared in a dark cloak, “and the hood isn’t fooling anyone.”

 

The blonde lowered the hood off his flaxen curls, pouting just slightly. “My mother cannot know I’m here.”

 

“Do I look like I’m gonna go snitch to Frigga?”

 

“Snitches get stitches,” one of the twin boys sitting on the floor grinned. Narvi looked innocent enough just sitting there, but Loki knew his son was planning some sort of mischief. He looked more like his mother, but he took after his father. “Right, dad?”

 

“Hi, Baldr,” Narvi’s twin, the much quieter Vali, waved at Odin’s son shyly. “I wrote another poem, just like I told you I would last harvest. Wanna hear it?”

 

“Boys, go help your mother,” Loki instructed.

 

“What?” The twins protested. “No fair!”

 

“Life isn’t fair,” Loki chuckled as his sons slinked away. He adored those kids. But his chuckle faded as he turned back to Baldr. “What do you want, anyway?”

 

“I’ve fallen in love,” Baldr confessed.

 

The trickster raised an eyebrow. “No offense, but you’re not my type.”

 

“N-not with  _ you _ ! With… the most incredibly unique girl I’ve ever met,” his face softened into a disgustingly lovesick smile. “She’s not like anyone in Asgard. She’s  _ amazing _ .”

 

“Spare me the details,” Loki pretended to gag. “Word of advice, kid? Never fall in love with a mortal. They die far too quickly.”

 

“She isn’t a mortal! I didn’t mean she was Midgardian!”

 

“And what of that wife your parents picked, hm?” Though his face was impassive, secretly Loki was intrigued. Baldr, the golden boy of Asgard, was thinking for himself for once? 

 

The aforementioned golden boy wilted. “Nanna would never understand. Neither would my parents. This girl is… an outcast. I need someone to help me get out so I can see her again!” 

 

“So you came to me?  _ Interesting _ . But are you sure you wish to shake things up  _ now _ ?” Secretly, Loki hoped Baldr would say yes. “Belief in us is already waning, what with that whole ‘Christianity’ thing that’s taking Europe by storm.”

 

“That’s just a fad. It’ll be over in a century or two, you mark my words. Anyway, I wouldn’t have come to you, but you’re the only person with the means to help me! Well. You or Heimdall.”

 

Gold eyes rolled. “Heimdall is as likely to help rebel against Odin as Freyja is to take a vow of chastity.”

 

“That’s why I came to you! And you cannot tell  _ anyone _ , Loki! I mean it!”

 

“What’s the lucky lady’s name, anyway?”

 

Baldr’s face did that goofy grinning thing again, his voice becoming rapturous on the single syllable:

 

“ _ Hel _ …”

 

Suddenly, Loki’s blood ran cold.

 

How could Baldr know of the daughter he had left behind? The product of a one-night stand before he had met his wife, the child he had abandoned? Loki had always regretted it, for Hel had grown up bitter and been cast out of Asgard, taking over the realm of the dead in retaliation.

 

Could this be a chance to make amends? To let his child know that even if she hated him now, he still loved her? That he had  _ changed _ ?

 

Loki hoped so.

 

One week later, Baldr was dead. Hel sent message that she would return him if everyone in Asgard cried for him. Loki was the only one who didn’t. How could he take him away from his daughter? She deserved Baldr more than anyone in Asgard did.

 

When brought before a council of other gods to justify his actions, he refused to do so. Instead, he called them out on everything they had done wrong over the centuries. All the reasons Baldr might leave, all the reasons the people of Midgard had lost faith in them and begun to believe in a loving savior god instead, all their hypocrisies and intrigues and conniving  _ bullshit _ .

 

Finally, Odin had refused to take one more second of his adoptive brother’s verbal barrage.

 

“ _ Enough! _ _”_ The one-eyed god roared. “Was taking away my only happiness not satisfying? You must add insult to injury?! Look at how Frigga sobs! How can you do this to her?!”

 

“How can  _ I _ do this to  _ her _ ?!” Loki challenged. “You abandoned Midgard in order to shield Baldr from reality like some maiden in a tower instead of the warrior he should have been!  _ He _ could have been the savior of the world instead of whoever it is they’re worshipping in Iceland now! And you wonder why Midgard is losing belief in us!”

 

“And whose fault is it that we will never know what Baldr could have been? Fine! You have forced my hand, Loki. Let it be known that what is about to happen is  _ your _ fault!”

 

“ _ My _ fault?! What the fuck are you talking about, you old bastard?!”

 

“Bring out the boys!” Odin commanded.

 

And suddenly, his sons, Narvi and Vali, stood before the council, Vali hiding slightly behind Narvi. Loki’s gold eyes widened.

 

“What is this? They have done nothing wrong!”

 

“You have robbed me of my happiness,” Odin answered, “so I will rob you of yours. An eye for an eye, so to speak.”

 

“ _ What?! _ ” The trickster attempted to dive at his sons, to save them, but he was suddenly restrained by none other than Heimdall. Of course. “Let go of me!” 

 

“Dad!” Vali shrieked. “What’s happening?!”

 

“Get behind me, Vali,” Narvi instructed, “I’ll protect you!”

 

“I-” Vali said, “I f-feel…  _ weird _ ...”

 

In one last, desperate attempt to save them, Loki looked wildly up at the other gods. “How can you condone this?! They’re  _ kids _ !”

 

Vali’s arms started to sprout black fur.

 

“Freyja, I know we were friends once! You told me you loved kids! How can you allow this?!” He demanded. 

 

But Freyja turned away, still stung by what Loki had accused her of. Vali’s limbs began to lengthen unnaturally, his back hunching over as his face stretched and distorted itself, all the bones in his body cracking audibly and reforming himself into this monstrous new form.

 

“Skadi?!” Loki tried to reach the others, thrashing against Heimdall’s hold. “Bragi?! Njörd?!”

 

One by one, they turned their heads. 

 

Vali was now a black wolf pawing at the dirt. Narvi’s eyes went wide as he tried to run, but he didn’t have a chance. The wolf, all memories of who he once was leaving his head, pounced on him, his jaws closing powerfully over his brother’s neck.

 

Narvi screamed once before the wolf ripped his throat away, an arc of blood spurting from the wound. Then, it was Loki who was screaming.

 

“ _ Narvi _ !” He yelled, even as he watched the life leave his son’s eyes. “V-Vali, listen to me! If you’re still in there, please, listen to me! This isn’t  _ you _ ! You’re a poet! You hate violence! Vali, please...”

 

The wolf took one more bite of Narvi’s neck, tearing the flesh and shaking his head back and forth to remove it from the body. Then, he leaped towards his former father, clearly aiming at his throat, too. 

 

In that moment, Loki would have welcomed it. Death was preferable to the sight of Narvi’s corpse lying on the ground in a pool of blood. Narvi, his little comedian, had been innocent...

 

Someone fired an arrow, piercing the Vali-wolf’s heart the same way the mistletoe had pierced Baldr’s. Loki cried out once as his other son was felled. Three more arrows flew through the air, each hitting Vali until he, too, was dead.

 

Only then did Heimdall throw Loki to the ground, into the pooling blood.

 

“Loki Laufeysson,” Odin added insult to injury, “I  _ banish _ you from Asgard. I condemn you to be bound for eternity. And I vow that you will  _ never _ be happy again.”

 

Loki looked up at his former blood-brother, flames of hatred in his golden eyes. Before he could respond, he was dragged down to Midgard and bound to a rock with the entrails of his sons. 

 

Sigyn chose to go with him. They didn’t bind her. That was a mistake. 

 

She was eventually able to free her husband, but by then they were trapped on Earth, doomed to wander the European countryside until any lingering belief in them disappeared. Then, they would fade away.

 

Loki let his anger fester in the centuries that followed. And he, too, made a vow.

 

He would  _ never _ forgive Odin for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see him in the street, walking by her side, talking by her side, have pity. They are going through the unimaginable.


	13. Laguz

_ New York City, 2025 _

 

Dipper stifled a gasp as he ran to him. Norman was still, his beautiful blue eyes that the older man had always loved closed delicately. No breaths came to make his thin chest rise and fall. He looked paler than usual in this light. He looked…  _no_ . No, he couldn’t be. He couldn’t possibly be…

 

Dipper took one of his frail hands, and let out a tiny, agonized groan when he realized it was limp and cold. As if… as if…

 

“H-he can’t be…” he began. The sentence was cut off as his legs gave out. Someone - Loki, he supposed - hastily grabbed a chair so Dipper wouldn’t hit the floor as he began to sob, huge sobs that wracked his entire body.

 

Where had he been? At some stupid media event?! All these interviews that he’d told himself he was doing for Norman - and now, because he wasn’t here, Norman’s corpse was in a coffin?! He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even  _ breathe _ through the sobs.

 

Someone handed him a tissue. Dipper glanced up to see a darker-skinned woman with silvery white hair. He didn’t take the tissue, so she began pressing it to his face for him. Loki, for his part, was oddly silent as he stood before the glass coffin. It looked like a sick parody of a fairy tale. Dipper reflected bitterly on how that meant Norman was Snow White. Somehow, he doubted a fucking  _ kiss _ would salvage this fucked up situation. He wept even louder.

 

Finally, the silence was broken by something other than sobs.

 

“Wh-what happened?” Dipper managed to choke out.

 

“Odin,” Loki responded. “The old bastard. Guess he got impatient. But…”

 

Brown eyes narrowed as the god trailed off.  _ ‘But’ _ ? 

 

“But  _ what ? _ ” His voice was impatient, gravelly.

 

“But he’s not completely gone yet. There’s still a chance to…”

 

Dipper blanched. “To what?! To make his ghost possess his  _ corpse _ ?!”

 

“To get his spirit back! His body hasn’t started to decay yet, and it won’t as long as Sigyn is caring for it,” Loki gestured to the silver-haired woman. “It’s not too late, if we can get to it in time.”

 

“That’s impossible,” Dipper murmured. But he didn’t sound as resolute as he’d hoped. He wasn’t so sure it was impossible.

 

“As impossible as Norse gods being real?” The trickster’s eyes looked almost fiery. “It’s been done before. Myths across the world talk about spirits being retrieved from the dead. If we can bring him back-”

 

“I’ll do it,” Dipper jumped up. “Whatever it takes to bring him back, I’ll do it!” He didn’t care what he had to do. 

 

He went to the coffin again, one of his hands cupping Norman’s face. It didn’t move, even as Dipper ran one thumb over the cold skin.

 

“I… I’ll bring you back, Norman.” Tears pricked at his brown eyes. “I promise. And when I do, I- I’ll be home more. I’ll be more present. I won’t let anything happen to you, I’ll protect you, I swear!”

 

Sigyn turned to Loki and spoke in a low, hushed tone so that the human wouldn’t hear, “You won’t have long. My magic won’t hold forever. He’ll only be preserved for so much longer. Loki, are you sure…?”

 

“No choice,” the trickster responded to his wife. 

 

“I  _ swear _ ,” Dipper repeated, fresh tears leaking from his eyes. Then, he bent over and pressed a trembling kiss to Norman’s cold, pale forehead.

 

He  _ had _ to get him back.

 

When his tears finally stopped, he looked at Loki, fresh determination in his heart. 

 

“What do I have to do?”

 

Loki offered his arm. “Come with me.”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” the god responded. “We’re going to Hel.”

 

***

 

_ Niflheim _

 

Norman shot up with a gasp. Once he had his bearings back, he half-expected Dipper to wrap his arms around him, murmur sleepily that it was just a dream.   
  
But, no. Norman quickly remembered that he was dead. And there was an entirely different person with him.   
  
Hel stared as if he were some kind of science experiment, or at least that's how it felt. 

 

"You fell asleep," she said.   
  


Time seemed to move differently in the realm of the dead. Norman couldn’t tell if he’d been there a few hours or a few days. He caught his breath. "D-Didn't know people slept down here."   
  
"They do. When they need to." It was somehow comforting that she was just as cryptic as her father. "You kept saying a name while you slept."   
  
"I know."   
  
"Who's ‘Shaw’? Why do you keep apologizing to him?"   
  
Norman inhaled sharply at the sound of that name. The name he'd do anything to escape. He hesitated, but inevitably decided he had nothing to lose. He was dead, after all.    
  
"Norman?"   
  
"Shaw was... he was..." A breath. "He was an agent with the FBI during the whole Bill thing. Collins'... Bill's second in command." Norman felt so ashamed to admit it out loud. "After Dipper got hurt, I went on this rampage. I lost control of my powers and I killed him." He could feel her shock without even looking up at her. "He was trying to surrender. He had his hands in the air." Norman could see every green-yellow tinged detail in his mind's eye. "He was just doing his job! He had a family, he had  _ children _ ! He... And I was the one who took it all away from him." Norman shut his eyes, unable to look up at Hel.   
  
A boney hand found his chin and lifted it, and suddenly Norman felt so small, so tiny under her ancient gaze. "Do you think he was a good man, this Shaw?"   
  
That wasn't what he was expecting. "I don't... Yes. He was just doing his job."   
  
"Yes. So then, do you think he would have sacrificed his own life for that of his family?"   
  
Norman was baffled. "Wha- H-how would I know?"   
  
"If he was indeed a good man. Do you think he would have?"   
  
He took a moment to think about it. 

 

"I guess so... but that wasn't a decision he made, it was-"   
  
"If you'd done nothing to save yourself and Dipper," she continued, "His family would have died. It's very possible if he'd survived and continued to fight against you, they would have died." The way she spoke about death, it was so logical, so calculated. "Do you think Shaw would have wanted to live if there was even a chance that his survival could lead to the death of the people he loved?"   
  
Norman had never thought about that. But his silence seemed to tell Hel all she needed to know. Her tone changed.   
  
"It's a fine price to pay. A lifetime of guilt for saving the world. No one but you thinks you deserve that. The dead don't hang around just to forgive the living. They aren't that selfless."   
  
Norman offered a single chuckle and a small smile grew on her face.   
  
"You're the only one who can forgive you, Norman."   
  
He hadn't even thought about it. Not even when Loki told him to. But he was sure that if there was anybody to trust about death, it would be Hel.   
  
He took a breath, and on his exhale...   
  
He forgave himself.

 

***

 

_ New York City, 2025 _

 

Dipper stared out the window of the 6-train as it whizzed pass the dark subterranean walls of the New York subway system. He had forced himself to go numb from all the crying, and he couldn’t bring himself to even look at Loki without feeling physically ill. After all, wasn’t it  _ his _ fault Norman was gone? If he’d never contacted Norman, none of this would ever have happened!

 

If he didn’t get Norman back, Dipper didn’t know what he would do.

 

“This is the last stop on this train,” the automated voice recording came through the subway’s speakers as the train pulled into the Brooklyn Bridge-City Hall station. “Everyone please leave the train. Thank you for riding with MTA New York City Transit.”

 

Dipper started to rise to follow all of the tourists off the train, only to be stopped by Loki telling him: 

 

“Sit down, kid.”

 

“We have to get off the train. And I’m not a kid, I’m a 26-year-old man!”

 

“Do you want to see your boyfriend again or not?”

 

“Of course I do,” Dipper frowned indignantly.

 

“Then sit down and stay on the train. There  _ is _ one more stop on this line, you know.”

 

Dipper knew. Of course he knew. One of the first things he’d done when he and Norman had moved to New York City was research anything that fell under the category of ‘strange and unusual’, and the abandoned old City Hall Station, once the jewel in the crown of the old IRT subway station, definitely fell under that label.

 

But he failed to see what that had to do with Norman.

 

“I thought you said we were going to hell, not some old subway station that was shut down the fifties.”

 

“First off, it was shut down in the forties, not the fifties. Second off? Not ‘hell’. Hel. My daughter,” Loki corrected. “Do you trust me or not?”

 

“No.”

 

“Too bad. You don’t have a choice right now. So you can either sit down and shut up, or leave the train and never see him again.”

 

Dipper glared, but sat back down.

 

“This train is out of service,” the MTA’s automated voice announcement sounded again. “No passengers!” 

 

The doors closed. The train wasn’t moving. And Dipper started to get nervous. He was positive the conductor would start walking through each car, making sure there was no one on the train, and that he’d be slapped with a trespassing charge. It was the last thing he needed right now. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. The seconds passed as slow as years.

 

Then, suddenly, the train lurched forward. They were moving through the darkened tunnel. He looked out the window again, just in time to see the train enter the ghost station. It wasn’t well lit, and it was obvious that decades of disuse had taken their toll, but it was also clear that buried beneath the rust and grime was something completely unlike the subway stations he was used to. It was like an urban version of King Tut’s tomb or Versailles, ornately decorated with Roman-style terracotta bricks and vaulted arches, haunted by an undeniable romance of the past.

 

He wished, not for the first time, that Norman was here to see it, too.

 

Loki raised an arm to the ceiling of the subway car, tall enough to do so, and suddenly golden lightning ran through his fingers, electrocuting the entire roof of the train. The lights went out and the train, unable to take this sudden burst of electricity, was forced to a stop as all of its electrical system short circuited.

 

“Come on,” Loki opened one of the doors at the end of the car. “This is our stop.”

 

“What?” Dipper glared as he stood up. “This better not be some joke.”

 

“You need a punchline for it to be a joke,” the god exited the train and jumped off onto the abandoned platform. Dipper scrambled to follow him.

 

“Where are you taking me?”

 

“I  _ told _ you, to Niflheim where my daughter lives! The entrance should be around here somewhere.”

 

“The entrance to the underworld is in the subway station?”

 

“ _ An _ entrance to the underworld,” Loki corrected him again. Dipper was getting sick of being corrected. He wasn’t in the mood. “There are entrances all over the world. This is merely one of them. Why do you think the MTA shut this station down, hm?”

 

Dipper had no answer for that. He looked up at the leaded glass skylights and the brass chandeliers, at the ornamental ceramic tiles that adorned the medievalesque curves of the arches. He couldn’t tell if this beautiful abandoned catacomb felt more like a palace or a tomb.

 

“Quit gawking,” Loki grabbed his sleeve. “Come on.”

 

The unlikely pair made their way through the twists and turns of the old subway station. Dipper could hear a rat skittering in the distance (at least he hoped it was a rat), but he could barely see a damn thing. Eventually, the god led him to a wall. There wasn't even a door on it. It was just a  _ wall _ , and a slightly cracked one at that. He scoffed, displeased.

 

“What is this?”

 

“For a Pulitzer prizewinning author, you really do have trouble putting two and two together.”

 

“I'm not seeing an entrance,” Dipper’s frown grew.

 

“Of course you aren't,” even in the darkness, Loki's eyes glinted dangerously. “It only appears after a human sacrifice.”

 

Dipper's eyes got wide.  _ What _ _?_ He started to back away.

 

“...I'm  _ kidding _ ,” the god placed both hands on the wall, on either side of the crack. “See,  _ that  _ was a joke. The punchline being the look on your face.”

 

Before the human could respond, Loki’s hands began to glow, the golden sparks illuminating the darkness. Dipper looked around nervously, afraid of getting caught even in an abandoned subway station.

 

“Veit hið óþekkta. Sjá hins ósýnilega. Opna dyrnar að Niflheim!” Loki chanted. Incredibly, the crack began to grow as well, and the wall began to part on either side of it, as easily as a sliding door. It shouldn't have been possible, and yet here it was, right in front of Dipper’s eyes.

 

The glow faded, leaving a dark, gaping pit that seemed to stretch down forever. A cold breeze seemed to be wafting upwards from it, and Dipper shivered, wishing he'd brought a heavier jacket.

 

“Don't worry,” Loki grabbed his wrist. “It's a lot farther than it looks.”

 

“Wait, we’re not seriously going to-?!”

 

He was cut off as the god jumped, pulling him along as they fell into the seemingly endless darkness.

 

***

 

_ Niflheim _

 

When his feet hit the ground, it was more like he’d jumped from a porch step rather than what seemed to be a mile of freefall. Dipper stumbled, his feet leaving clumsy tracks in the snow. Snow? It was October? He looked up.

 

The mysterious landscape was completely barren. It was desolate, boulder-strewn, wind-swept… and above all, blanketed with more snow than Dipper had ever seen in his life.

 

“Woah…”

 

“Welcome to Niflheim.” There was no mirth in Loki’s voice as he spoke, already setting out across the snowy terrain. 

 

Dipper rushed to catch up to him, wrapping his arms around himself as he struggled to get through all that snow. His light jacket did not protect him much from the freezing temperatures. “Norman’s  _ here? _ ”

 

“No, we’re just stopping by for fun.”

 

“You said-!”

 

A frustrated breath escaped through Loki’s teeth. “It was a  _ joke _ . Lighten up.”

 

Dipper just glared. He continued to follow through the snow and the shivering. He hoped Norman wasn’t cold down here. He got cold so easily. Was somebody keeping him warm? 

 

Could the dead get cold?

 

He shook that thought away. Norman wouldn’t be dead for long if Dipper had anything to say about it.

 

The ten minute walk felt like one of the longest of Dipper’s life. He almost wished for more of Loki’s bad jokes. Almost. 

 

Eventually, seemingly out of nowhere, a long building came into view. It looked like some kind of log cabin that stretched on for as long as Dipper could see. 

 

“What is that?”

 

“Helheim. The realm of my daughter.”

 

“Well… Then it’ll be easy to get him back, won’t it? I mean, you’re her dad!”

 

The god just snorted. “My daughter who hates me.”

 

Well, fuck. “Wonderful.” Dipper supposed he should have seen that coming. 

 

They made it to the great front doors of the hall and Loki knocked, producing a sound much louder than Dipper expected against such sturdy-looking doors. A few moments later, the doors opened slowly.

 

The woman on the other side was tall and pale with dark hair and gold eyes. She did look like Loki’s kid. Especially when her eyes narrowed.

 

“What are  _ you _ doing here?” Her words were as frigid as the air.

 

Behind her, many ghosts had assembled, probably trying to discern who had arrived in their world who was corporeal enough to knock. All of them looked like they were from a different time, like something from one of those ancient civilizations documentaries Dipper watched on the Used-To-Be-About-History Channel. All of them except-

 

“Norman!”

 

Norman was standing a few feet behind the woman, looking at them with a mix of shock and hope. Dipper pushed past both Loki and his daughter to get to him, but when his arms went around that waist he loved so much… They went right through. 

 

That’s when Dipper noticed that he could see right through Norman. His whole body was translucent, and every part of him - even his eyes - were a pale greenish color.

 

He was a ghost. 

 

Norman, with his confused arms outstretched as if to touch Dipper’s face, seemed to be coming to the exact same conclusion.

 

Dipper was hyper-aware of the others in the room, watching them come to that conclusion. He felt his eyes watering all over again and pushed it down. Now was not the time. “I… I can’t touch you.”

 

Norman put his arm through Dipper’s shoulder, looking just as crushed. “G-guess not… Dipper, I’m-”

 

“I can finally see what you see all the time, huh?” He managed a small, teary smile.

 

Norman didn’t smile. “I knew you’d come.”

 

“Kid.” Both ghost and man turned to Loki. “You look like shit.”

 

The woman cleared her throat. “Is that why you’re here, then? You wish to bargain with me for another soul?”

 

“Yes, Hel. That’s why I’m here.” Loki met her eyes and Norman stared at them and Dipper felt out of the loop. 

 

“That’s the only reason.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And how did that work out for you last time?” The woman - Hel - crossed her arms over her chest. 

 

Dipper felt  _ way _ out of the loop. “H-He wasn’t supposed to die!” The woman’s eyes snapped to him. “Not like this. He wasn’t.”

 

Norman began to say something, probably something to calm Dipper down, but Hel interrupted. “I’ve said it before and I shall say it again: I cannot release a spirit simply because they or anyone else wishes it so.”

 

Loki seemed to be about to argue. “Hel-!”

 

“Hel,” A calm, masculine voice cut Loki off, and the owner of it placed a hand on her arm. “Let’s be reasonable. Perhaps my father made a mistake.”

 

“He’s Odin’s son?” Dipper murmured to Norman.

 

“Baldr,” Norman whispered back. Then he addressed the woman all in black. “H-Hel…” She looked at him. “Please… I know what I need to do now. Let me at least try.”

 

Hel looked at Norman, and maybe Dipper was imagining it, but her gaze seemed to soften the slightest amount when she met his ghostly eyes.

 

“If Odin truly did make such a mistake,” she said, “then you’ll have no problem at all getting him to cry for Norman.”

 

Loki’s eyes narrowed, warningly. “Is that all?”

 

She held up a hand. Dipper’s eyes widened at the decomposing flesh but Norman shook his head - not now. “And while you’re at it.” Hel lowered the hand. “Why not make the entire pantheon cry for him?”

 

Loki examined the floor.

 

“Unless, of course, you don’t think you can do it.  _ Father . _ ” She said the word like a schoolyard taunt.

 

“We can do it!” Dipper wouldn’t give up this chance. He wouldn’t let Norman’s life slip through his fingers. Not again. “We can do whatever it takes if you’ll just give him back.” Even if Loki wouldn’t, Dipper would find a way. He had to.

 

Loki and Hel were both staring at him. Loki was the one who spoke. “Apparently, we can do it.”

 

“Perfect,” Hel spat at him. “Return when you do, and I will release his spirit back to Midgard.  _ If _ you are successful.”

 

“We will be,” Dipper was determined. 

 

“Then you better hurry along and do it before his body decomposes,” Hel regained her freezing exterior.

 

Loki began to leave and Dipper knew he had to follow. He turned to Norman one last time. “I  _ will _ save you. I promise, Norman.”

 

Norman just smiled. “I know, Dip.”

 

That faith in him was all Dipper needed to know he was right. He followed Loki to the entrance, but the god paused in the door, as if to say something more. He didn’t. 

 

He led Dipper out, back into the cold.

 

“You really think you can do this?” Loki asked. “My pantheon is a bunch of stubborn jerks.”

 

“I can,” Dipper replied. But doubts were already setting in. How would he make  _ gods _ cry? He pulled out his phone. There was no service down here. But maybe the girls would know some way to- The girls. “But I’ll need help.” 

 

Loki raised an eyebrow but didn’t question him. “Of course you do.” He kicked at some snow petulantly, muttering to himself, “Can’t believe I’m doing this for a damn  _ Prenderghast _ .”

 

***

 

_ The New World, 1621 _

 

“What’s this?” Loki arched an eyebrow when Angelica, now almost a year old and just starting to walk, toddled over to him and thrust a poppet into his face. 

 

“She does that to everyone,” John, now twelve, didn’t look up from the fire he was tending. The snow was heavy this January, and many in their colony were already sick. The Prenderghast family had been lucky so far, but no one was taking any chances. “I think she wants someone to help name her doll.”

 

“Hm… What about Grimhilda?” The god lifted up the little girl, still clutching her doll.

 

“No,” Angelica giggled. It was one of three words she knew so far - ‘Mama’, ‘John’, and ‘No’. From where she was sitting and mending one of her husband’s coats, Mary couldn’t help but smile.

 

“Not a fan, huh?” Loki pretended to be thoughtful. “Hm… Ermengarde?”

 

“No!” Angelica laughed even more, which in turn made Mary chuckle. She would never tire of that musical sound.

 

“How about Grogda?” He smirked, evidently having fun coming up with the worst names imaginable, even for a little girl who was used to people named things like ‘Silence’ and ‘Abstinence’ (Mem’s two daughters, naturally).

 

Before Angelica could refuse that one, Mary suddenly felt a wave of weakness wash over her. She brought the coat sleeve she was mending to her mouth just in time to cover it as she began to cough uncontrollably, feeling as if her lungs were trying to expel themselves.

 

The other three in the room jumped. Loki’s face turned serious all of a sudden, and he turned to John.

 

“Go get your father,” he told the boy, who nodded and fled into the snow. 

 

Mary swooned, her vision going blurry.

 

After that, things were muddy for a while. She spent her days disoriented, her body in pain when she coughed, her fever not breaking. People came in and out but Mary couldn’t register who they were, or even if they were living or dead. 

 

At some point, she vaguely remembered hearing a feminine voice, feeling something cold being applied to her chest. She couldn’t find the words to protest. She was certain she was dying.

 

But somehow, she didn’t die. She had no idea how many days or weeks had passed, but her fever finally broke, and she slowly began to come back to her senses.

 

The first thing she noticed was a deep green. It filled her vision to the point where it felt suffocating, especially as she was still having trouble breathing with her nose feeling completely clogged up. She wondered if this was some odd form of blindness - it would be awful for her to go blind and be unable to distinguish the voices of the living from those of the dead - but she soon realized that it was the canopy of her bed.

 

She turned her head to the side. Her son lay next to her, shivering as beads of fever-sweat pooled on his forehead, his breath coming out in loud wheezes.

 

“Oh, no…” she murmured to herself. The illness that had been making its way through the Massachusetts Bay colony had found its way to the Prenderghast home after all.

 

She rose from the sickbed, placing her bare feet on the cold wooden floor as she crept out into the main room of the house. Someone was standing in front of the fire. She squinted, her eyes struggling to adjust to the light in the room after coming from a dark bedroom.

 

“Loki…?” her voice was hoarse.

 

But it was her husband who turned around, his face pale and his nose running into his unshaved stubble. 

 

“John…” Mary’s brows furrowed. “Not you, too…”

 

“Goody Temper brought over some soup, frozen solid,” his voice was raspy. “I was trying to heat-!” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He turned his head to the side as a series of deep coughs wracked his entire masculine physique. Mary helped her husband sit, waiting for the coughing fit to pass.

 

“How many have died?” She wondered out loud, though she didn’t expect an answer.

 

John spat out some phlegm into the fire and bowed his head solemnly. “Half of us. It’s a scourge sent by the devil Himself. No family is safe. Your friend Remembrance passed a fortnight ago.”

 

Mary stiffened. It didn’t quite feel real. Mem was  _ dead _ ? True, they hadn’t gotten along, but she never wanted the other girl to  _ die _ . 

 

“A-and her daughters? What of Silence and Abbi?”

 

“Abstinence is in the grave with her mother. Goodman Winthrop has taken in Silence, but he doesn’t expect she’ll survive to see the month’s end.”

 

“That poor girl,” she expressed her sympathy, though it almost felt as if the room was spinning. This was all too much to bear. “She’ll be dead by February then?”

 

John frowned at his wife. “Mary… it’s March.”

 

“What?” She felt faint, her blood running colder. She’d been sick  _ that long _ _?_ And another thought entered her mind, one that gripped the inside of her skull and refused to leave. “John… where is Angelica?”

 

Her husband looked away. Mary’s heart began to pound faster.

 

“Where is Angelica?!” She repeated, frantically. “Where’s my baby?!”

 

“Still alive, don’t fret,” he gestured to the room of the bedroom. “You passed her bassinet on your way out here, dear girl. Did you not look into it?”

 

If Angelica was still alive, why had John looked away when asked about her? Mary knew what the answer would be even before she returned into the sickroom, but knowing didn’t make the ugly reality any easier.

 

The baby - eleven months old now, not yet one -  _ was _ still alive, but only just barely. Mary’s hand trembled as she reached out to cup her daughter’s cheek. It burned to the touch with fever.

 

Both her beloved children, the only joys she had in this New World, were sick, possibly dying of this horrible illness that was killing off their colony! They never should have come to this wretched New World! Unable to take it, Mary began to weep, tears falling onto her baby girl’s unconscious little body.

 

The days began to blur together, one fading into another monotonously as Mary worked tirelessly through her own weakness to try and heal her children and husband. As her own symptoms faded, she worked even harder. She’d already watched one loved one fade away and die. She would  _ not _ lose her family the way she’d lost Sol.

 

Crops were failing and no one, even with the reduced size of their population, had enough to get by anymore, but that didn’t stop Mary from trying. Her days were an endless stream of heating cups over the fire and twisting their hot rims into her family’s skins to draw out bad humors, of doing her best to gather whatever meager supplies she could in this snow to make soup, of grinding mustardseed and fennel with a mortar and pestle to be mixed with honey and egg yolk and applied topically to her children’s chests, of cleaning up sweat and snot and various other unpleasant bodily fluids from the sickbeds, of boiling hyssop in hot water to make a tea guaranteed to clear phlegm out of a person’s throat and force-feeding it to her children.

 

The only commonly-accepted treatment for illness that she did not try was prayer. When had that ever helped her? No, Mary was determined to fight off this sickness herself, with all that she had.

 

It was a  _ miserable _ existence. Still, she didn’t give up. And slowly but surely, things started to look up. While the neighbors were digging a grave for their oldest son, Mary’s son began to get better. 

 

But Angelica didn’t.

 

Mary was in the process of trying to feed the baby more healing hyssop tea when the little girl began to cough. Loud, painful-sounding coughs ripped through her tiny frame, and Mary sat her up to try and make it easier on her. That’s when she saw the familiar green aura of a ghost begin to surround her beloved baby daughter.

 

She felt chilled to the bone as she choked out a tiny, “no… please no…”

 

Her pleas did no good, and Mary could do little but watch as Angelica’s spirit began to rise out of her body.

 

“N-no!” She tried to grab it, tried to shove it back into the corpse as tears came to her eyes. “Not Angelica, please not Angelica! Live, damn it!  _ Live _ _!_ ”

 

The spirit looked at her mother mournfully, floating through those desperate fingers and towards the ceiling. Still, Mary tried to grasp at one of those transparent greenish legs, refusing to let go as the tears began to roll down her cheeks.

 

“I won’t lose you, Angelica! I can’t!  _ No _ _!_ ”

 

It was no use. She’d lost her. She’d  _ failed _ . Angelica was gone, leaving only a tiny corpse in a sweat-soaked bassinet.

 

It was more pain than Mary could bear.

 

A loud, animalistic wail  _ tore _ itself out of her body, her agony seeming to shred her heart into pieces. Mary swore she felt it shredding in her chest, and god did it hurt! Her feet, bare and cold, took her out of the house into the snow as if in a desperate, fruitless search for Angelica’s spirit, even knowing that it was already too late. The snow-covered ground was ice cold, the snow making her feet so numb that she stumbled and fell to her knees. The wind whipped through her loose brown hair, and Mary’s hands tangled into the dark strands, pulling so painfully at them that in her grief she managed to tear some of the hairs out.

 

“Why?!” She continued to wail loudly, sobbing bitterly. “Damn it,  _ why _ _?!_ Not my Angelica! No!”

 

“Mary!  _ Mary _ _!_ ” A vaguely-familiar voice came behind her, and she felt someone’s arms wrap around her.

 

She squirmed and tried to wrench herself away, kicking and screaming and fighting as someone tried to drag her out of the snow. She didn’t want to be brought inside and made to look at that tiny corpse again! 

 

“Let me go! No! Noooo!” She continued to wail and sob. “It should have been me! It should be  _ me _ _!_ She still had so much to learn! It’s not  _ fair _ _!_ ”

 

“Mary, you must come inside!” The voice pleaded with her.

 

“No! Let  _ go _ of me!”

 

“What about our  _ son _ , Mary?!”

 

Finally, she recognized who was grabbing her. It was her husband. Still recovering from the dreadful illness himself, he had dragged himself out of the sickbed just to pull her out of the snow. He always had been kind to her, even when she was difficult.

 

Suddenly, she felt exhausted. She let herself collapse into John’s arms, sobbing weakly.

 

“Not my Angelica,” she cried bitterly.

 

“I’m sorry, Mary… Please, come inside...”

 

She let him pull her inside.

 

Angelica was buried by the end of the week, in a tiny coffin her father had made himself, and with her a piece of Mary’s happiness that she knew would never return again. Though he was no longer delirious, John Junior was still not well enough to attend his sister’s funeral. Mary did not speak at this funeral. What would she say, a prayer for Angelica’s soul? No, she would  _ not _ pray to any so-called god who refused to save an innocent baby girl from a horrible death. Whatever shred had remained of her already-scant faith had now been utterly decimated.

 

As the dirt was being piled onto the coffin and it really sank in for Mary that she would never see her daughter’s beautiful face again, nor hear that joyous laughter, she found she could not bear to watch. She turned and fled into the forest to weep alone. Her husband didn’t go after her this time, sensing that she needed to be by herself for a bit.

 

And weep she did, hot tears of agony raining from her blue eyes like rain. She didn’t want this to be real. If she could have traded her life for Angelica’s, she would have in a heartbeat. She’d had so many hopes for her daughter’s radiant future, and now those hopes were shattered and buried in that tiny grave!

 

“Mary…” she heard Loki’s voice behind her. She hadn’t seen him since the day she’d gotten sick. “I… my condolences, okay?”

 

“Condolences?” She asked, bitterly. “You abandon my family for months and then you show up to offer  _ condolences _ ?!” 

 

As she said it, she could feel something brewing in the hole where her heart had been, something other than all-consuming grief. It was… anger. She was  _ angry _ .

 

She whirled around to glare at Loki. 

 

“You could have stopped this,” she accused.

 

He looked taken aback. “Easy, kid.”

 

“Don’t you ‘easy’ me! You’re a  _ god _ \- you should have been able to stop this! What good are you as a god if you cannot take care of your believers?!”

 

Mary felt a strange, tingling sensation in her hands. She heard crackling in her ears like lightning, her vision starting to tint slightly green. But she wasn’t afraid. She was too angry to be afraid of whatever was starting to happen to her. Her hands balled into fists. Loki’s gold eyes widened as they looked at those fists, and he suddenly raised his hands up defensively.

 

“Kid -  _ Mary _ _-_ listen to me-!”

 

“No! I’m done listening to you! You should have stopped my daughter from dying, but instead you were nowhere to be seen! Where were you when we  _ needed _ you?!”

 

“I know how you must be feeling right now-!”

 

“You can’t possibly know how I feel! You heartless, selfish, sorry excuse for a god!”

 

“Yes I can,” he continued defensively, starting to back away. Mary saw little green lightning sparks reflected in his eyes, and realized those must have been coming from  _ her _ . “Mary, I’ve lost children before, I know how much it hurts.”

 

“If you knew, you would have stopped this!”

 

“That’s not within my power, Mary,” he lowered his voice, as if trying to calm her. It only made her angrier.  “But I know how you feel!”

 

“No you  _ don’t _ _!_ ” She could  _ feel _ this strange, unworldly green lightning starting to consume her arms and legs. And Loki… Loki looked  _ afraid _ of her.

 

“W-when Odin turned one of my sons, Vali, into a wolf, and forced him to murder his brother, Narvi, I thought my grief would tear me to pieces. He made me watch as one of my sons died, a-and as the other gods murdered my other son! Mary, I  _ know _ how you feel,” Loki continued to back away from her, desperately trying to defend himself.

 

“Then why didn’t you try to save her?! Why should I listen to anything you say?!”

 

“I already  _ told _ you, I have almost no power left! I  _ couldn’t _ have saved her, not without belief!”

 

“Belief?” Her anger only grew. It wouldn’t be long now before it took over her entire body in the form of this lightning. “ _ Belief _ _?!_ If I can’t have my daughter, why should you have my belief?!”

 

“M-Mary, please, just calm down and think about what you’re saying here-!”

 

“No! I  _ won’t _ calm down!” Her eyes narrowed. “If belief is what you need to live… then I hope you  _ starve _ !”

 

Her vision went completely green as she let herself become completely transformed by rage. She didn’t believe in him anymore. She just wanted him to suffer like she had.

 

“Mary,  _ no _ _!_ ” Loki’s gold eyes widened.

 

She screamed, sending bolts of green lightning in all directions as her body ignited. 

 

The last thing she remembered before it took her over entirely was him screaming in pain.

 

***

 

_ Asgard, 2025 _

 

“Oh, Dipper!” Mabel threw herself at her brother as soon as she learned what had happened to Norman, throwing her arms around him in a loving embrace even as she sniffled against him. She and Pacifica had evidently rushed to meet him, as both were still in their pajamas instead of the outfits they’d worn to the awards ceremony. 

 

Looking down at his own suit, and at Loki who was suddenly in Viking-era ceremonial garb (he guessed that was what it was; it looked like something out of “Game of Thrones”), Dipper realized they made quite a motley crew.

 

He released his sister from his arms and ran a hand through the front of his hair, anxiety beginning to gnaw at his stomach.

 

“Where are we?” Pacifica looked around, her tear-rimmed blue-green eyes landing on a massive pair of doors in front of them.

 

“Outside our old meeting room,” Loki pursed his lips. He clearly didn’t have fond memories of this place. “Can’t say I missed it, as it was the room where I was banished,” his sneer confirmed Dipper’s suspicion.

 

“Okay?” The blonde’s frown grew, though some of the usual icy effect she was normally so good at was cancelled out by the fact that she was still teary-eyed over Norman. “Still doesn’t answer my question.”

 

“Asgard,” Dipper answered her question. Just saying the  _ word _ made his nervousness increase tenfold. 

 

“Woah,” it was Mabel’s turn to look around, her brown eyes taking everything in. “So we’re, like, in another world?”

 

“H-how the hell are we gonna do this?” Dipper sighed shakily. And then, the anxiety was just too much and he began to babble as if the unending stream of word-vomit was its only possible release. “I mean, god, what are we really gonna do, realistically? With no plan? No thought put into what we’re gonna say when Norman’s  _ life _ is on the line?! Odin already has it out for him! A-and what, we think we’re suddenly gonna change the mind of literal gods who have been doing the same exact thing for centuries?! For millennia?! What was I  _ thinking _ telling Hel this was possible?!”

 

“Dip-” His sister started to speak, placing a comforting hand on her twin’s shoulder, but was cut off:

 

“Relax, kid,” Loki examined his fingernails, not looking Dipper in the face. 

 

“Don’t tell me to relax!”

 

“You’re the one who told me we could do this,” the god responded. “And we can, ‘possible’ or not. You act like this is the first time you’ve been asked to do something impossible. I read your book; I know it’s not.”

 

“You- wait, you read my book?” Dipper blinked.

 

“But,” Loki continued, looking between the three humans who stood before him, “you’ll all need to stay strong and stand your ground - if they see any sign of weakness in you, they’ll tear you apart.” He paused, a weighty pause that spoke volumes, that said there was more to his reasons for hating this place than he would tell any of them. “Figuratively.”

 

Still, it was the first time Loki had said something to him that seemed sincere. Dipper was thrown off by it, at least enough that he could start to catch his breath.

 

“If it helps,” Mabel said softly, “I’ll go first.”

 

Loki opened his mouth as if to respond to that, but he didn’t have a chance.

The great doors opened.

 

The room was enormous, and rounded so that the assembled gods were surrounding them. It honestly reminded Dipper of some Twilight Zone version of the room at the United Nations, except that it was a hell of a lot more ancient and ornate looking. Had that really only been a month and a half ago? So much had happened since then.

 

He realized who a few of the unfamiliar faces were. The stunningly gorgeous twins, for example, had to be Freyr and Freyja. The enormous man with the red beard who looked confused to be there had to be Thor. (Hadn’t he moved to Arizona? What was he doing here? Perhaps that was why he was confused, Dipper deduced.)

 

And the man in the large throne with an eyepatch and a grey beard had to be Odin. The stare-down he was giving them didn’t help to ease Dipper’s anxiety.

 

“Loki!” A feminine voice ran out, and a dark-skinned white-haired woman - Dipper recognized her, too, as Sigyn, the woman who had preserved Norman’s body - ran to Loki’s arms. “This is the same room where-”

 

“Shh,” the trickster god hushed her. “I know.” Then, to Odin, he spoke, “Hel, the queen of the realm of the dead, has offered to return Norman to the land of the living. As per the treaty Asgard signed with Niflheim, if we can convince you all that he deserves to come back, you must honor her request!”

 

Dipper also noticed Loki had a habit of leaving out important information. But he supposed he wouldn’t want to be the one to tell Odin they were there to try and make the guy cry.

 

He wasn’t even sure if Odin  _ could _ cry, looking at him now. 

 

“Very well,” the one-eyed god seemed more annoyed than anything else. “Though I doubt  _ you _ could convince me of anything, silver-tongued lying  _ wolf’s father _ _._ ”

 

Loki visibly winced, but gestured to the humans all the same. “ _ I _ don’t have to,  _ brother _ . His family wants to make the case for his life. I am merely the one who transported them.”

 

Odin looked Mabel, Pacifica, and Dipper up and down, really scrutinizing them with his one eye. When he spoke to them, it was not with the vitriol he used with Loki, but rather the stern voice a teacher might use with naughty kindergarteners. Dipper wasn’t sure which voice was worse.

 

“You three may speak. But you may only speak once. Say all you need to say, and when you finish, be silent. I don’t want my time wasted any more than it already has been today.”

 

The trio in question exchanged looks. 

 

Pacifica raised an eyebrow, as if to express disbelief and doubt at the whole situation. 

 

Dipper tried to echo the sentiment, but was pretty sure he just looked like he was about to faint. 

 

Mabel took a breath, closed her eyes, and then suddenly put on an expression of determination, nodding to both her fiancée and her brother before stepping forward to stare Odin down.

 

“When I first met Norman,” Mabel began, summoning every ounce of courage she had - if Dipper didn’t see her fingers trembling slightly, he never would have guessed she was nervous - “I thought I was gonna be the one to marry him someday. He was so small and cute, and I had a new crush every week back then! Heh… even back then, I guess some part of me knew I wanted him to be part of my family. I just didn’t realize he’d join it by falling in love with my brother. I wish… I wish you could all see them together. If you could see them together, if you only knew just how much Dipper’s life -  _ all _ our lives - improved just by being in love with him, you’d want Norman back in a heartbeat!

 

“See, because, you don’t know Dipper like I do. Maybe you read his book, maybe you didn’t, but you didn’t see how hard it was for him, growing up feeling like the whole world was against us and wanting desperately for someone to love. And then Norman came along and maybe he didn’t make Dip feel normal, but guess what? He did something better. He made us both feel like we could all be weirdos,  _ together _ _!_ And… and I think that’s better. Don’t you?”

 

Suddenly, Dipper heard a sniffle. He looked over towards the stunningly gorgeous twins. 

 

Freyr and Freyja were both holding one another, evidently touched by how close the Pines twins were with both each other and Norman. Dipper supposed as love deities, they may be more in touch with their emotions. He was grateful they were twins, too. They at least could understand. It made him feel a little less anxious.

 

Mabel shot her brother a little smile, then turned back to the gods and continued her spur-of-the-moment speech:

 

“But even if Normy and my brother weren’t totally in love, I’d still want Norman back for  _ me _ _!_ He’s one of my bestest best friends! I wouldn’t even  be who I am now without him! I don’t know if you guys follow fashion - probably not - but I got my start designing by knitting sweaters, mostly for myself. And when I met Norman, I thought, ‘hey, here’s a guy who I bet could really rock a cool sweater’, so I knit him one and… he started to cry,” she looked sheepish.

 

Dipper remembered this story. He glanced away and noticed some of the valkyries beginning to hide their tear-streaked faces.

 

“I felt really  _ really _ bad about it,” Mabel continued, herself a little misty-eyed, “and I almost gave up knitting right then and there! But he told me later they were happy tears. No one had knit him anything since his grandmother had died. So from then on I knit him one sweater every summer, even after he got his growth spurt - which gave me practice designing for different body types. I still do it, too! And I have a lot of yarn that would go to waste if he didn’t come back... I guess what I’m trying to say is…” She paused. “The Mystery Quartet is something really special! Not just to Dipper and Norman, but to all four of us! I don’t know if any of you guys have ever lost anybody, but if you have you’ll understand that it just won’t be the same with one of us missing.”

 

The woman next to Odin - his wife, Dipper supposed - burst into tears at that. Odin placed a hand on her shoulder. Nearby, a couple of gods he didn’t recognize whispered to each other and tried not to cry.

 

He couldn’t believe it - this might actually work.

 

Pacifica stepped forward next.

 

“It’s hard for me to say this. It’s… not really something I ever talk about to anyone, but if it means getting my best friend back…” The blonde sighed. “I didn’t have the best childhood. My parents made no secret of the fact that they didn’t love me. They loved when I won, when I proved how much ‘better’ I was than anyone else, and by proxy how much better the Northwests were than everyone else. If I ever disappointed them, they put me down, they openly  _ insulted  _ me and told me I was worthless! And I grew up feeling like that - like I was worthless if I wasn’t constantly the best at everything. I didn’t even realize anything was wrong with it until I met Mabel… B-but this isn’t about how much I love Mabel, and besides, if it’d were I’d be giving her spoilers for my wedding vows!”

 

Someone in the room laughed at that. Dipper didn’t see who. Pacifica didn’t seem to notice.

 

“The reason I bring this up at all is… I thought when I met Norman that we had nothing in common. I completely wrote him off, way too quickly - and maybe some of you have, too. But he didn’t give up on me. He listened and… and he understood that pain, the unique agony of never feeling quite good enough for your parents. He didn’t care that I was a Northwest. He didn’t like me for my name or my money or my talent, he just liked me for… me. Not as a Northwest, but just as Pacifica. And I learned how to like him, too, just as Norman.”

 

More of the valkyries burst into tears, as did some of the goddesses. 

 

“And it  _ hurt _ , caring about someone like that. Because every time he got hurt, every time he almost died - and it happened more than once - it felt like I was getting stabbed in the heart over and over and over! But guess what? I wouldn’t trade that in for anything in the world. Not for all the diamonds and designer clothing in the world. Because… because Norman is my brother. Not by blood, but he feels more like family to me than anyone who shares my last name or DNA or whatever. I love him.” She blushed, wiping at her face as more tears formed in her eyes. “And I’d really like to have him at my wedding.”

 

More and more of the gods began to cry. Pacifica stepped back and pat Dipper on the shoulder.

 

“Your turn,” she whispered to him as she passed him. “Clinch the win, Pines.”

 

He knew what she was trying to do. He knew the half-joking statement was meant to make them both feel better about this whole fucked up situation, and he appreciated that she’d tried. But the statement only made his nerves flare up again.

 

What if he fucked this up? He only had one chance.

 

“U-um,” he stammered, keenly aware of all the eyes in the room directly on him. “Hi. It’s, uh, me. The beleaguered boyfriend…”

 

Odin looked less than impressed.  _ Shit _ .

 

Dipper didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t like a TV interview! The stakes were so much higher, and he’d had no time to prepare. Trina hadn’t prepped him on what he should and shouldn’t say. And Norman’s life was on the line!

 

Norman’s life was on the line…

 

He shook his head. He wouldn’t let his nerves get the best of him when Norman’s  _ life _ was on the line!

 

“I’ve never been the best with words. But piggybacking off what the girls said,” he forced himself to speak, summoning every ounce of courage he had, “when  _ I _ first met Norman, I was completely convinced I’d end up with some cute girl. So much for that plan, huh? But I’m glad it didn’t work out how I planned it when I was younger. I can’t imagine my life going any other way, now. I don’t know any other person who would have stuck by me through it all. 

 

“When we were teenagers and I was so obsessed with solving a mystery that I failed to notice his feelings until they got him possessed, he was patient with me, more patient than I deserved. When we were in college and unsure if the universe was even gonna let us stay together, he was there for me through  _ all _ of it, through every three A.M. existential crisis and every haunted dorm room. And when we were wanted for false charges of domestic terrorism… when we lost everything, he made sure we still had each other. They tried to kill us  _ both _ , but we still had each other…” 

 

A loud sob broke out from the direction Thor was sitting in. Dipper didn’t turn to look at the massive god, though, choosing to continue speaking:

 

“But you know what? This isn’t just about me. Do you know why I wrote my book? It wasn’t because I wanted to get rich and famous, or because I thought we owed anyone an explanation. No. It was because I remember what it’s like, being some misfit kid who feels like it’s you against the world. And I know that all those misfit kids out there finally have a hero. That’s Norman. That’s who he is - someone who stands for all the heroes and the outcasts.  _ They _ need him, too, maybe even more than I do.”

 

Now he looked Odin directly in the eye, which seemed to surprise the one-eyed god.

 

“You must have loved humanity once,” Dipper told him to his face, forgetting everyone else who was in tears around them. As far as he was concerned, now it was just him and Odin. “Maybe after your son died and people stopped believing in you, you forgot how to, but sometime, long ago, you must have loved the humans who worshipped you. Who  _ needed _ you. Well now they need him. Who the hell are you to take him away from them? How does that make you any better than the one who took your son away from you?”

 

Finally, he stopped speaking, unclenching his fists - when had his hands balled into fists? Dipper had been so carried away by his own words that he had no idea what his body had been doing. He watched Odin carefully. This was it. The moment of truth.

 

Odin seemed to be thinking about the speeches he had just heard. There was a too-long silence, as he whispered to his wife next to him.

 

Then, he bowed his head. A single tear rolled down his withered cheek.

 

“Perhaps,” the god’s voice sounded tired, almost-broken, “I have acted in haste. You’re right. This is not what Baldr would have wanted…”

 

They had done it.

 

***

 

_ Niflheim _

 

Odin’s power of transportation was greater than Loki’s, so in a split second - a second that left their heads spinning - Loki and the three humans were transported back to the icy realm of death to let Hel know the news.

 

When the great doors opened, Hel looked impassive, but her eyes hid fire behind them.

 

“Back so soon?” 

 

“Mabel?” Norman asked from behind her. “Pacifica? Is that really you?”

 

“Norman!” Pacifica gasped, pulling Mabel towards his ghostly form. “I wish you could have seen-”

 

“We made  _ everyone _ cry for you!” Mabel cut her fiancée off. 

 

“You did?” The medium locked eyes with Dipper, who nodded. “For- for  _ me _ _?_ ”

 

“No,” Hel said before anyone else could speak. 

 

“ _ What? _ _”_ Loki hissed. “You offered us a deal, and we took it, and now we’ve succeeded. What do you mean ‘no’?!”

 

“I mean ‘no’,” her glare was as fierce as ever. “You have not succeeded. Your entire pantheon needed to cry.”

 

“They did!” Dipper protested. “Everyone! Freyja, Freyr, Thor, the Valkyries, even  _ Odin _ _!_ That’s not  _ fair _ _!_ ”

 

“I am sorry,” Hel responded coldly, “but life is not fair.”

 

And then, suddenly, Loki’s eyes gleamed brightly, his hands bursting into flame as he began screaming at his daughter:

 

“Why not, huh?! Why?! Odin admitted he fucked up! So why won’t you give him back?! Why won’t you just listen to me for once, Hel?! I know what I did in the past hurt you, and I am sorry, but that doesn’t mean you take it out on  _ him _ _!_ This wasn’t supposed to happen! He doesn't deserve to die!  _ I’m _ the one who deserves this!” 

 

And all at once the fight seemed to go out of Loki. He fell to his knees before his daughter and began to weep.

 

“I’m the one who deserves this. I’ll take whatever punishment you have, just please…” 

 

Hel looked completely taken aback as her father’s shoulders shook with sobs. 

 

“Please, give him back…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the longest chapter in the story, but worth it. Solving the problem with words has never been Dipper's strong suit, but it's very Norman.


	14. Mannaz

_ Niflheim _

 

As far back as Hel could remember, she had never seen or heard of her father crying.

 

He had not cried when he’d abandoned her mother, Angrboda. He had not cried when Hel met him again, centuries later, only to find him with a new wife. He had not cried for Baldr, completely remorseless for the murder he had committed. He had not even cried for the loss of his own sons.

 

So when he fell to his knees in sobs, begging her, “please…”

 

...she did not know what to do.

 

When she had requested that the whole pantheon cry, the same deal she made to release Baldr’s soul, she hadn’t expected Loki to do it. It stung, truthfully. She had not been important enough to cry over. But Norman was?

 

“Please give him back,” her father wept, sounding to all present like an utterly broken man.

 

Hel felt a hand on her shoulder, and whirled around to face Baldr. Baldr, whose golden curls and dimpled smiles could defrost even her heart. Baldr, who was forgiving and gentle and everything she was not.

 

“Is this not what you wanted?” He whispered to her.

 

“I didn’t think he would do it,” she whispered back, quiet enough to not let the mortals hear her. “He never cried for  _ me _ . So why should he cry for Norman?”

 

“But Hel,” her love said, “he  _ is _ crying for you. And for Narvi and Vali and everyone he has ever hurt. Don’t you see? This is years of sadness finally getting a release. He’s changed. As you urge others to forgive, shouldn’t you as well?”

 

“He must earn my forgiveness, Baldr.”

 

“Then give him a chance to earn it. Look at him…”

 

She looked back.

 

Loki looked pathetic on his hands and knees in the snow, the dampness seeping into his clothes as his tears continued to fall.

 

Hel knelt before him and hooked a hand under his chin.

 

“Did you mean it?” She asked him.

 

“What?”

 

“You told me you were sorry for how you’ve treated me. Did you mean it?”

 

“I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean, Hel.”

 

She pursed her lips. “Perhaps… you are not so heartless after all.”

 

“D-does that mean-?!” Dipper gasped. Hel stood and nodded, confirming what the human man had been about to ask.

 

“The entire Norse pantheon has cried. So I will keep my promise. Norman’s spirit will be sent back to his body in Midgard.”

 

The humans all exchanged looks, evidently in shock.

 

“Thank you, Hel,” Norman shot her that tiny smile. She defrosted just a little more.

 

“And Father?” She offered her dad one of her hands.

 

He took it, letting his daughter pull him up. “What?”

 

“I don’t forgive you for what you did to me back then. But… I am willing to let you earn that forgiveness.”

 

The trickster seemed satisfied with that, nodding as he wiped his face off. “I will, Hel.”

 

“Good,” she snapped her fingers, and suddenly Norman’s spirit disappeared from view. “For now, though? You four had best return to Midgard.”

 

***

 

_ New York City, 2025 _

 

As soon as they reached the room, Dipper ran to the glass coffin, pulling the top of it away. His hands hovered over his boyfriend’s still form, as if unsure what to do. He heard Loki and Sigyn exchange a few words in a language he didn’t recognise. He found one of Notman’s hands and clung to it, Bringing it to his chest and leaning down to look into his face, silently begging for those beautiful blue eyes to open.

 

“Norman? C-can you hear me?”

 

For one horrible moment, there was complete stillness, as if they were in a movie and someone had pressed pause. And then…

 

First it was just a twitch. Then, sure enough, those eyelids began to flutter, revealing a sliver of Dipper’s favorite color. Dipper gasped and brought his other hand around to cup the back of Norman’s head. “Norman!”

 

“Dipper?” The older man was mesmerized by how those lips curled around his name, soft and there and  _ real . _ He couldn’t help himself anymore.

 

He held Norman close as he pulled him into the kiss, the arm not supporting his head wrapping around his waist. Dipper felt him release a little noise into the kiss - god, he missed those! He held him a little tighter, overjoyed. His Norman was  _ back _ ! 

 

It wasn’t a long kiss, but it meant the entire world to both of them. Dipper pulled back to look into those perfect blue eyes. “You’re here! You’re back, thank god!”

 

He helped Norman sit on the edge of where he’d been lying down, and Mabel elbowed Dipper a little so she could hug Norman herself. He still refused to release Norman’s hand, though. 

 

“Dipper was such a worrywart the whole time, talking about how he wasn’t sure if we’d done it in time, and how he didn’t know what he’d do if we hadn’t, and how much he missed you  _ already _ and-” 

 

Norman hugged her back, sensing Dipper wasn’t the only one who was worried. “I’m okay, Mabel.”

 

She subtly wiped her face on Norman's shoulder before pulling back. “Well, duh! The Mystery Quartet was on the case. We haven’t let you die yet!”

 

Pacifica was next, smacking the back of Norman’s head very lightly. “Stop scaring us.” Then she pulled him into a desperately tight hug.

 

Norman chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. “I will, Pacifica.”

 

“I’m serious.”

 

“I  _ will _ _!_ I have to make it to your wedding.”

 

“Damn straight.”

 

“As much as I hate to interrupt,” Loki spoke and Dipper just glared at the interruption. “There’s somebody who wants to speak to you, kid.”

 

***

 

_ Asgard, 2025 _

 

As soon as Norman saw Odin again, his heart began pounding involuntarily. The guy  _ had _ just killed him, after all. He couldn’t help but be wary.

 

Odin, however, had a softer expression on his face, one that truly highlighted how old he looked. He wasn’t trying to be fearsome as he walked over to greet Norman. If anything, he looked like someone’s grandfather.

 

“Norman Babcock,” Odin spoke.

 

“Um… Odin?”

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make this brief. God to man.”

 

Involuntarily, one of Norman’s hands reached back to his friends, needing someone to take it. Pacifica elbowed Dipper out of the way to clasp his hand, a comfort he was grateful for in this moment.

 

“I acted in haste,” Odin looked down at the medium. “I allowed centuries of grief to blind me, and you suffered for it. For that, I am… I’m… Hm…”

 

“You’re…” Norman furrowed his heavy brows. “Are you trying to say you’re… ‘sorry’?”

 

The idea of Odin being sorry felt more weird than the idea of Odin killing him.

 

“Yes,” the one-eyed god answered gruffly. “I… was reminded of something today. Baldr loved humans. The best way I can honor his legacy is to remember I once did, too. So I am sorry, Norman.”

 

Stunned, Norman could only gape.

 

“And, if you want it,” the god continued, plucking the shield from the hands of a valkyrie and handing it to Norman, “this shield belongs to you. Not as a symbol of godhood, but as a symbol of your humanity.”

 

Norman eyed the gleaming gold metal of the shield, the only physical remnant of Baldr left in this realm.

 

“N-no, I… I don’t know if I can accept that,” he sputtered.

 

“Nonsense,” said Odin. “It’s a gift. Besides… maybe it’s high time I finally started letting go of the pain of my son’s death.”

 

The medium was utterly shocked, enough that his hands lifted the shield from Odin’s hands before he could really think about it.

 

“I’ll… hang it in my living room,” he responded. That seemed to satisfy Odin. “And… for what it’s worth? Baldr is happy. I think he’d want you to know that.”

 

“Odin!” Boomed a voice that seemed to come out of nowhere. 

 

At the entrance to the grand hall, two large groups of people stood at the entrance. The god leading the first had glowing golden skin and worse long flowing robes. Those beside him wore robes of many different colors. The Greeks. Beside them were the Egyptians, and they did indeed look Egyptian. Their clothes seemed encrusted with gold in some places. The man in front had green skin. 

 

“You’ve proven yourselves incapable of handling the simplest of situations.” Zeus glared, his eyes like blades. “Is this yet another fumble? Or do you really intend to start a war over this  _ human _ _?_ ”

 

It seemed that Zeus, Osiris, and the other gods had finally gotten tired of waiting for Loki and the others to  _ deal _ with him. 

 

“Zeus-” Odin tried to speak up.

 

“Centuries of inter-pantheon peace, and that is to be sacrificed?!” The god boomed. 

 

Suddenly everyone in the room was talking over each other, the Norse coming to their own defense while the Greeks and Egyptians shouted questions and sometimes insults across the hall.

 

Norman had been given a second chance, and he was not going to give it up, no matter what.

 

“I’m sorry!” He said loudly, not sorry at all. Suddenly every eye in the room - human and god alike - was on him. “But would you all stop trying to kill me? And each other? For, like,  _ one _ second? You’re adults! You’re centuries old, so…” His hands flailed with frustration. _“_ _ Stop it!” _

 

Many of the gods looked to be about to interrupt him, and few were definitely about to kill him. But somebody beat them to it, speaking up - though not in the way Norman expected.

 

“Let the boy speak.”

 

Norman turned in surprise, but it was indeed Odin who spoke up, shocking the other gods into silence. He momentarily forgot to speak. 

 

Loki gave him a little nod. “Go on, kid.” 

 

Odin glanced to his brother with something like regret in his eyes.

 

Dipper smiled at him, and Norman nodded.

 

“I get that there are rules about stuff like this. And I get that you all have a responsibility to your believers and your fellow gods, but  _ jeez! _ ” He let out a nervous laugh. “Is that really a good enough reason to kill somebody?!”

 

The gods suddenly seemed unable to meet Norman’s eyes. They looked practically petulant. He took a breath.

 

“Over the last few weeks I’ve learned a lot about who I am and where I came from. I’ve gotten answers to questions that, all my life, I thought  _ had _ no answers.” He looked back at Loki. “Hundreds of years ago, a woman named Mary made a deal with a trickster god. She did it because she was in love with man who had died. She just wanted to see him again.” He examined the floor for a moment before looking back up at the assembled gods. “When she did that, she changed the course of her whole family line. She had no idea what she was getting into, and god knows if she would regret it if she knew.” He corrected himself. “Gods know? No, wait, they don’t- Nobody knows, okay?

 

“But her great, great… however many greats, great niece was a little girl named Agatha Prenderghast. She was eleven when the people in charge killed her for being different.” He sighed. “Sound familiar? She wasn’t hurting anybody, and neither am I.” He caught Osiris’ eyes. “She did not deserve to be murdered. And neither do I.” It struck him how sure he was of that. Norman had never been so certain before that he deserved to live. 

 

“Then don’t ever die, child.” He looked up and the goddess beside Zeus - Hera? - had a gentle smile on her face. “Become a god. The Norse have already welcomed you, have they not?”

 

A few other gods murmured to each other. Norman shook his head. “Being human is my favorite part of myself. I don’t want to live forever.” He thought about his family and smiled. “I… I wanna grow old with my friends. I wanna watch my niece grow up. I want human problems and a human life.

 

“Besides!” A thought struck him. “I was able to defeat Bill because I wasn’t - sorry, but - bogged down by godly politics. If I hadn’t, did any of you have a plan?”

 

They looked embarrassed. 

 

“Maybe you guys need a wildcard human who  _ isn’t _ attached to any sort of pantheon to be able to do the things you aren’t allowed to do.”

 

“A ‘wildcard human’?” Osiris scoffed. “For what, another fifty years? Lots of good that’ll do.”

 

Norman’s face hardened. “Christy Agatha is going to change the world.” The words came out of him without a thought. “Look, growing up, nobody believed a word I said about the ghosts. Because she was born after the whole ‘Blue Lightning’ thing, not only is she not alone like I was as a kid, but all her playmates play games with the ghosts that shes, too! Can you even imagine the world she’ll grow up in?!” He couldn’t help the smile. “And I’m lucky enough to be alive so I can show her how to use the powers and guide her through the hard stuff… I’m lucky enough to be able to see the world that she’s going to inherit. But I’m not done!” He seemed to be realizing it as he spoke. “I want to do more!” His heart filled with confidence. “I want to reach out to everybody who doesn’t have that. Everybody who’s been made to feel bad about how they act or how they speak or where they’re from or what they look like or who they love? Maybe I’ve helped a little. I’ve been lucky enough to help. But I’m not done.”

 

The gods stared at him, and he was sure his friends were, too.    
  


“Maybe I don’t know how I’m gonna do it yet,” he conceded. “Maybe I got a little lost in the past. But I’m done with that. I know I’m no stronger than Mary or Agatha. I’m no better than any other human on the planet. But I can do more! I want to do more, if you’ll just let me!

 

“I just… I just need one chance.  _ One _ life.”

 

Zeus glanced to Osiris, whose arms were crossed. “Well…” The Grecian god examined the ceiling. “ _ We _ won’t start a war over this if  _ you _ don’t.” He told Odin.

 

Osiris sighed, pretending he wasn’t touched by the words. “I suppose we’ll let it be, as well.”

 

The Norse broke into cheers, some of them coming over to clap Norman’s shoulder with frankly bruising force. Frigga pulled him into a warm hug which he hesitantly reciprocated. It amazed him how quickly they all accepted him. What on earth had his friends said to them?

 

Loki was the last one to approach him, one eyebrow lifted, but his lips curved into an unmistakable  _ joyful _ smile. “You did good, kid.”

 

“You saved my life.” Norman hesitated, but inevitably threw his arms around the god, pulling him into a hug.

 

Loki seemed surprised but wrapped his arms around him with a light chuckle. He held Norman tight. “Don’t get sappy, now. It’s not like I did it alone.”

 

“No,” Dipper sounded a little annoyed about that. “But we couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t helped.” He was reluctant to be say it, Norman could tell. But he was saying anyway. “So thank you, Loki. But if you don’t let go of my boyfriend soon I’m gonna punch you again.”

 

Norman snorted.

 

“In that case…” Loki threw Norman over his shoulder. “I’ll never let go!” 

 

Norman shrieked with laughter as the god played a game of keep-away with his boyfriend. Dipper was less pleased. “Hey! I’m serious!”

 

“Come and get him, Pines!”

 

Dipper let out a cry of utter frustration.

 

“Hey, Hermes, catch!” The trickster called.

  
_ “ Loki!” _   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's fitting for Norman to choose humanity when 'mannaz' literally means 'man'.
> 
> One more chapter to go...


	15. Dagaz

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you two stealing from the candy bowl!” Dipper said, stirring a huge bowl full of green, horror-movie themed punch. Fake guts were floating in it. “I expected this from Christy, but  _ et tu, Norman _ _?_ ” Norman could see his barely-concealed smile.

 

“I have a problem,” Norman said, popping a gummy brain into his mouth.

 

“Me too!” Cried Christy Agatha, filling the pockets of her Zombie Sleeping Beauty costume with candy corn. “I have a problem, too!”

 

Norman was so glad Courtney and Keith let Christy spend Halloween with them. Courtney was equally glad, as it was one of the only times she could go to an actual party.

 

“Well save  _ some _ for the Trick-or-Treaters.” Dipper placed the punch bowl on the counter before coming to join the two of them on the couch. “Scoot over, what are we watching?”

 

“Frankenweenie!” Christy pointed. “The dog’s dead!”

 

“Stop-motion?” Dipper made an unsure noise in the back of his throat. “We better turn that off before Mabel gets here.”

 

On cue, the doorbell rang. 

 

“Your turn!” Dipper and Norman both said in unison.

 

Christy giggled at them, and Norman sighed, accepting his fate and transferring his niece to Dipper’s lap before grabbing the candy bowl. His green cape fluttered a little behind him.

 

“Trick or Treat!” The kids sang, holding out bags a pillow cases already half-filled with candy. 

 

“It’s Loki!” One of them shrieked with delight as Norman bent down to fill their bags with candy - a handful each. 

 

“Heh, yeah, that’s me!” He straightened up in his elaborate costume - custom built by Pacifica and Mabel. “Mewling quim and all that.” A few of the kids giggled. “I’d’ve sent Thor, but he was being lazy.”

 

“Hey!” Dipper called from the couch, waving his foam hammer jokingly. He waved as the laughing children thanked him and headed to the next door. Then Dipper spoke again. “Norman? We have more party guests!”

 

When he turned around, two gods were standing in front of him, one with his arms crossed. 

 

“What on earth are you wearing?” Loki asked, a set of plastic devil’s horns atop his head.

 

Norman laughed and took on a terrible british accent. “I want to destroy the universe because Daddy didn’t love me enough, woe is me!” The god beside Loki smiled cooly, the only hint that she was amused. “Happy Halloween, Sigyn.”

 

“And to you,” she replied, eyeing the punch on the counter. “Is that edible?”

 

“Dipper made it, so that’s debatable.”

 

Christy cackled with glee and Dipper whined, _“_ _ Hey! ” _

 

Sigyn was already heading for the punch bowl. 

 

“She’s going to improve it,” Loki explained. “Hopefully with alcohol. Now can we get back to what on earth you’re wearing?”

 

“Mabel and Pacifica made it!” Norman turned around. “You like it?”

 

Loki tried to pretend he wasn’t laughing. “Take it off immediately.” 

 

“No! You can’t make me.”

 

“Uncle Norman!” Christy climbed off Dipper’s lap to bring over an empty bowl, taking care of the emergency situation on their hands. “We’re out of soccer bits!” 

 

“Sockerbits?” Loki gave him a look and Norman just smiled. 

 

“There’s more in the kitchen, C. I’ll fill up the bowl. By the way...” He leaned down to pick her up, balancing her on his hip. “This is my friend Loki.”

 

“No, Uncle Norman,  _ you’re _ Loki.”

 

He could see the amusement and affection in the god’s eyes as Loki replied, “He sure is. And I’m a devil, see?” He pointed to the horns. 

 

“Psh, yeah right!” Christy waved her hand dismissively. “M’not afraid of you!”

 

Loki smirked. “I like this one, kid.”

 

“Me too,” Norman replied. “Oh! Christy, why don’t you tell our friend the devil why these are called sockerbits?”

 

She nodded seriously. “Because they’re what’s inside soccer balls!”

 

Loki broke into a huge grin and laughed, throwing his head back as he did so. “That’s exactly right!”

 

Norman put Christy Agatha back on the couch and refilled the bowl of sockerbits, restoring order and balance to the world. Loki followed him to the kitchen. 

 

“Kid.” Norman looked up. “It’s been almost a week, and you haven’t asked me any questions about what happened.”

 

Norman shrugged. “I don’t have any questions.” 

 

“Huh.” The god tilted his head. “That’s a first.”

 

They both looked over as the punch bowl emitted a popping and crackling sound, like a fire, tendrils of steam floating up from the fake guts floating inside. They wondered what Sigyn was doing, but neither of them were brave enough to ask.

 

“So… Norman.” Loki only ever called him that when it was important. “What happens now?”

 

“Well,” Norman looked over at where Dipper and Christy were trying to throw candy corn into each other’s mouths. “I think I’ll take a break. We’ve all been through so much, and now that I know I’ll live a good few more decades, I don’t feel bad about taking time to figure out what I’m gonna do next.”

 

“Sounds like a plan to me.” There was something knowing in Loki’s tone. Something soft in his eyes.

 

“But I  _ was _ thinking of taking Christy to Coney Island tomorrow, since she hasn’t been yet. It’s the last day of their Halloween event. And if you’d like to join us, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

 

“I’d love to,” Loki took a seat on their counter. “But I’ve got family counseling with Hel tomorrow.”

 

Norman’s eyes widened. “So you  _ did _ call Dr. Carter?”

 

“What, is that so surprising?”

 

“Well when I told you about her, you said ‘don’t count on it.’”

 

“When have I ever done what you expected me to, kid?”

 

“Good point,” Norman smiled. “Well, best of luck. I really hope it works out for you guys.”

 

The punch began to bubble as Sigyn chanted some incantation. Norman wondered if this was necessary or if she was making it extra spooky for Halloween. 

 

“I really hope your wife doesn’t burn down my apartment.”

 

“Oh, she won’t. I’m like. Sixty percent sure.”

 

***

 

_ The New World, 1621 _

 

By the time the snow melted and the blossoms appeared on the trees, Mary’s husband and son were fully healed. But Mary would never be the same.

 

She almost never attended church anymore. She didn’t care what others said about it. She had no desire to sit for four or five hours every week listening to a minister talk about a god she couldn’t believe in and a hell she knew didn’t exist.

 

“Today would have been Angelica’s birthday,” Mary stood in front of her infant daughter’s grave, watching the blossom-covered branches on a nearby tree. Her people didn’t celebrate birthdays, but it still pained her to know how close her daughter had been to being one year old.

 

“At the very least, she’s no longer in pain, Mary,” Mem’s ghost replied. The blonde girl was a lot more bearable now that she was dead. She was less smug now. 

 

“That is true…”

 

“Tell us what was said at the last public meeting, Mary!” Another ghost, that of Goody Osborne, pleaded. A few more of her ghostly friends seconded that request, half out of curiosity and half out of wanting to distract Mary from her grief.

 

Even they didn’t know that Angelica was not the only one Mary was grieving.

 

She obliged, giving a brief summary of the new crops they had planted - corn and squash that they’d learned to plant from the strange natives of this land.

 

“I don’t know if corn flour will be any better than wheat, but if it works for the Wampanoag people…” She trailed off.

 

“You’ll have to tell us how it tastes,” Mem nodded. “You know, I used to think those people were savages, but now that I have more time to observe them, they really do seem to have some good ideas.”

 

“And some good looking men,” Goody Osborne added. Mem seemed to blush - it was hard to tell through the ghostly green glow - and some of the other ghosts laughed. Mary shook her head fondly.

 

“I’ll let you know how the new crops taste when harvest comes,” she promised, then looked towards the forest. “But for now, if it is quite alright with all of you, I… I’d kind of like to be alone.”

 

Her ghostly friends looked at her understandingly.

 

“Of course,” a male ghost named Samuel broke the silence. “Today of all days must be hard for you, Goody Prenderghast. We’ll give you as much time as you need.”

 

She smiled at them all sadly, and watched as they all left her, one by one. Finally, she was alone, with Angelica’s grave. She sighed at it, then looked down at her own hands.

 

She still remembered very clearly what it had felt like when they had turned into that mysterious, otherworldly green lightning.

 

She hadn’t seen Loki since. And she knew, somehow, that she never would again. He was really, truly  _ gone _ .

 

“I wonder if things could have worked out differently,” she sighed to herself. 

 

Maybe if she had introduced Loki to her husband, the god would have had enough power to save Angelica. Or maybe if she had chosen to speak at Angelica’s funeral, she wouldn’t have run to the forest and lost her temper.

 

Mary wasn’t sure if she forgave Loki. She wasn’t sure if she regretted her actions or not. But she did know that her son John missed him.

 

“I wonder what the world would have been like if you were still in it,” she said quietly, not sure if she was speaking to Loki or to Angelica. 

 

Either way, the world would have been a lot more fun.

 

Mary let out one more sigh, and looked back up at the blossoms.

 

“I guess,” she said, “no one will ever know.”

 

***

 

_ New York City, 2025 _

 

Norman was on the couch, his legs resting on Dipper’s lap, a cup of punch(?) for each of them on the coffee table. Neither of them had tried it yet. Across the room, Christy Agatha was playing a game of Twister with Mabel, Pacifica, and Loki, while Sigyn watched from the sidelines. Christy insisted on calling out the colors, finding it hilarious that she could make the adults contort themselves into ridiculous positions just by yelling colors. Spook, Sunny, Mari, and a few other of their friends were chatting around the table, stealing nibbles from the bowls of candy.

 

“Trina gave me the month off,” Dipper said out of nowhere. Norman turned and stared at him.

 

“She-”

 

“Well, I may have insisted,” The older boy smiled sheepishly. “We can’t keep going the way we were, it was driving us into the ground.” He ran a finger through Norman’s hair. “I don’t want to schedule crumbs of time to spend with you. I want to share my life with you. Besides…” He shrugged. “We won the Pulitzer. How much more publicity does the book really need?”

 

Norman pitched forward and kissed him briefly. “I’m so glad. So you can come out with us tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah,” He replied with a joyful chuckle.

 

Suddenly there was a shriek from the other side of the room. “No!” Pacifica screamed at Loki, clearly having just lost to him at Twister. “Rematch! Best two out of three, I won’t lose to you!”

 

“Uh oh,” Dipper looked at him. “Are you gonna go break that up?”

 

“They’re adults, they’ll live,” Norman leaned his head into Dipper’s shoulder.

 

They sat quietly for a moment, being together. 

 

“You know,” Dipper said, “I was gonna make a blog post about all this. But then I figured people would think it was a Halloween joke.”

 

“They would,” Norman agreed. “And I don’t think the gods would want us to spoil their secret identities.”

 

“Yeah,” Dipper nodded, pulling Norman a little closer and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “That too.”

 

After a beat, Norman broke into laughter. Dipper looked up at him.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Nothing, it’s just- It’s  _ weird , _ but...” He smiled at Dipper. “I missed this.”

 

“Missed what?” Dipper tilted his head.

 

He pressed a tiny kiss to the corner of Dipper’s mouth. “Having a secret that nobody would believe.”

 

_**The End** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the final chapter of this weird, wonderful story that was the first work we collaborated on since Ana moved to New York City (it’s not by coincidence that ended up being this story’s setting). Thank you for the support, we hope you all enjoy this finale, and see you all next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Buckle your seat belts, kiddos. We're back.


End file.
